


A Family Affair

by clarityhiding



Series: The Storybook Hour [6]
Category: Bandom, Doctor Who, Fall Out Boy, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Panic! at the Disco, The Cab, Young Veins
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Crossover, F/F, M/M, Mpreg, Parthenogenetic Mpreg, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-10
Updated: 2008-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/pseuds/clarityhiding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan and his band of alien-fighting musical awesome learn some interesting facts about Gallifreyan reproductive physiology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Family Affair

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** All of this? Fictional. The only things that're real are the names and I even changed some of those. _Harry Potter_ is J.K. Rowling's. _Doctor Who_ , Sarah Jane, the Doctor, Martha Jones, and those other lovely little fictional people and aliens are pretty much all the BBC's. Except for [Georgie](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/00054gab/g3), who is belle_bing's, and [Naia](http://pics.livejournal.com/clarityhiding/pic/00057a2h/g3), who is astraev's.
> 
> **This story contains the following:** Schmoopy cuddling! Psychic powers! Male alien pregnancy! Lesbians! Alexes! Quesadillas! Suspension of disbelief! Ducks! Consider yourself warned.
> 
> **Notes:** Zen hugs for brandixcyanide for catching my four AM typos and tolerating my random chatter about this monster and 'verse. Also for fragilistikal for letting me ramble about it at her, even though Panic really isn't her thing. Love and hugs and inappropriate gropings for belle_bing who not only asked to hear this story, but also made me force some structure onto my ramblings, provided some of the Georgie-voice, and named the baby, because we all know I couldn't be trusted to act responsibly about that on my own. ♥♥s, you guys.
> 
> This does, technically, come after the other TSH sequel, _The Smiths & Windsor-Jones_, but it is not necessary to read that first in order to understand this. I think.

Touring is kind of weird for the guys that make up The Storybook Hour. They're pretty much always on tour, since their home is the back of Ryan's car. They like it there and it's comfortable and when Pete starts talking about buses, they tell him to stuff it. He points out that they can't be driving all day and then perform in the evening, but Ryan also doesn't want to have random people driving his car, so there's a bit of a standstill on that for a while. Finally, a compromise is reached when Brent points out that yes, while it won't work for them to play after a day of driving, even with four drivers and all, they're also on the road for ninety, ninety-five percent of the year anyway—why not just have long, drawn-out "tours"? Which would kind of suck for roadies, but they have Ryan, who can fix most Earth-based sound technology in about five minutes, so it isn't a problem. Pete grudgingly admits that Brent may have a point.

Corporate, however, is not nearly as understanding as Pete Wentz. They disapprove of Black Belinda and are more than a little worried that the boys, accustomed to determining their own schedules as they are, will fail to act as responsibly as they should. In the end, the plan of touring sans accompanying caravan is only given the go-ahead after the boys agree to allow a handler to accompany them as well. None of the band are particularly pleased about this, and Ryan grumbles the entire time he sets about adding a room to the car for the new guy to sleep in. Complaints quickly disappear when they actually meet said handler, however, since Zack is, as Brendon puts it, "Nearly-entirely-definitely full of awesome."

There's some confusion when Zack first starts traveling with them, most of it resulting from the fact that nobody thought to inform him that when the band says they save lives, they mean that they _save lives_. Specifically, they save people from those malevolent aliens who would much rather take over the planet or munch away on humans rather than arrange for peaceful trade negotiations. Spencer says Gerard Way has totally ruined things for them, because now no one believes them when they say they can take care of themselves.

After Zack, the biggest change in the guys' lives since signing with a label is that now they have to play shows every few nights. Also, they have a schedule they have to stick to. It's a bit annoying because they're used to setting their own pace and agenda, but one has to make sacrifices when one becomes famous, so they sigh, bear with it, and it goes okay right up until the point where Ryan gets some kind of nasty stomach bug. He can't keep food down, feels miserable, and starts having mood swings. This last thing is somewhat-typical of Ryan however, so the only person who ends up worrying about it is Brendon, who's getting yelled at a bit more than usual. It makes him upset and mopey until Ryan relents and they promptly curl up in the armchair in Black Belinda's living room and become a single entity once more. Or at least until Ryan has to make another run for the bathroom in order to lose his lunch.

The upset stomach leaves Ryan feeling so miserable that he can barely play some days, let alone perform, and the others end up biting their lips and enacting one of their rarely-used contingency plans, having Brent play lead guitar. It's times like this that they're are glad they have five members in the band, grateful that Ryan finally acquiesced to having Brendon sing lead. Still, it just doesn't feel right to be on stage, playing and singing Ryan's songs when they know Ryan's curled up in bed, feeling horrible and trying to sleep it off.

After a little over a month of Ryan feeling absolutely horrible, Zack meets the band when they come back after a show and tells them that he thinks it might be a lot more serious than they originally thought. This bit of news causes Brendon to freak out and run off to himself that Ryan hasn't managed to hack up a lung or something during the show. "God, Brendon, lay off," Ryan says, making a face and pushing Brendon away when he tries to squish Ryan, since Ryan is much too prickly and grumpy for squishing right now. Brendon emerges from their bedroom still looking confused and a bit frantic, stumbling into the living room and curling up on the couch.

Ten minutes later, Ryan comes out of his room and tucks himself around Brendon and they start communicating by osmosis as is their wont. Everyone else in the room visibly relaxes. Between knowing each other for ages, dating for years, and being able to read each other's minds, it's a rare day indeed when Ryan and Brendon are out of sorts with each other, and the other guys find it more than a little unsettling when it does happen.

"So," Ryan says after a while, "I'm thinking I should maybe call the Doctor." Brendon and Spencer stiffen in their seats, clearly alarmed. Ryan swore up and down that he'd only bother the Doctor in case of an absolute emergency since the Doctor's so often busy with saving world and species and things on the other end of the galaxy. That Ryan thinks the situation is such that the Doctor needs to be contacted means this is _definitely_ a lot more serious than what they all originally supposed.

Zack says maybe he should've seen one a while ago back when this whole thing started, because food poisoning can be fucking dangerous sometimes, honestly. This observation prompts a disbelieving look on the part of the boys. "What? What'd I say?" Zack asks.

"Zack," Brent says slowly, "he's not talking about _a_ doctor. He's talking about _the_ Doctor."

"Ummmm, what?" Zack asks, because he doesn't get what the difference is. Which, really, is band's own fault, since they tend to be more than little closed-mouthed about things related to Ryan's peculiarities. Like most of the world, Zack thinks that Ryan isn't all that different than the majority of the human population, aside from the occasional burst of psychic ability. It doesn't help that Zack took a few days off back around Christmastime, completely missing the shenanigans that resulted from the unexpected visit of Rupert and the girls.

The boys share a vague sort of communal look before turning to Spencer, who sighs and shrugs. "It's Ryan's decision to share if he feels like sharing," he says.

Brendon nudges Ryan with his nose and raises his eyebrows. Ryan bites his lip and buries his face into Brendon's chest, but doesn't say anything. After a minute, Brendon glances up and says, "He says we can tell Zack." He fixes Zack with a look that is strangely serious for Brendon. "You can't tell _anyone_ about this, Zack," he says softly. "You can't talk about it with anyone outside this room. _Anyone_. Or else Spencer will hunt you down and you'll wish you never lived."

"Damn straight," Spencer growls, eyes narrowed.

"Got it," Zack says. He's _seen_ Spencer Smith in action and he never, _ever_ wants to get on that kid's bad side. There have been times when the guys haven't even had to do any fighting when trying to take down aliens, just have Spencer introduce himself. Word gets around—species they've never even tangled with know and fear Spencer. Zack still can't understand why management thought TSH needed any kind of security.

"So," Spencer says, taking a deep breath, because he's always the one who has to explain this, since Ryan's a total weenie and Brendon gets distracted easily when the conversation deals with something he'd rather avoid thinking about. "You know how Ryan's adopted? Yeah. That would be because he's an alien."

"One of the last two of his species in existence," Brendon says brightly, hardly about to pass up a chance to brag about Ryan.

Zack considers this news for bit while his charges pretend they're not holding their breath (well, except for Spencer, who isn't holding his breath, because he needs to stay on top of things just in case he has to Zack disappear under questionable circumstances or something. Spencer is Ever Vigilant). Then he shrugs and nods. "Well, it explains all the awesome stuff with the car, I suppose. What does this doctor guy have to do with Ryan being an alien?" He pretends not to notice the collective, relieved exhale of TSH.

"He's the other one," Ryan says suddenly, uncurling from Brendon slightly. "The other one like me, I mean. I just. My physiology isn't what it was when I was younger, and I'm not quite used to how it is now. The Doctor's an adult, he'll know if this is normal or not."

"Ryan used to be human, kinda," Brendon volunteers. "But he got back his alien parts back a couple years ago, so now he's not human anymore. And he's like... the alien equivalent of sixteen or something, so I get to be a dirty old man." He leers at Ryan, but Ryan just rolls his eyes and smiles, punching his boyfriend lightly.

"Spaz," Ryan mutters affectionately as he digs out his phone and untangles himself from Brendon. Though he's still paler than normal and as all get out and there's a weird sort of sickly look to him, he looks a lot better now than he did when the others first came back. "So, um. I'm just. Going to go call him," he says, quickly disappearing into the sound-proofed practice room, taking care to close the door behind him.

Zack stares at the others. "Is it some great big secret that he's an alien? Because he's not really trying all that hard to hide it, what with the advanced technology and everything."

Brent shrugs. "That's just Ryan. He likes to make stuff, so he does. Anyway, it's not as if he even knew about the alien thing until a few years ago."

"That's stupid. How can you not know you're an alien?" Zack says, frowning. Next to Spencer, Jon has a sudden coughing fit that sounds suspiciously like "Frank Iero."

Spencer shrugs. "He was really young, he didn't know what was going on when he came here, and he barely even remembers his real parents anyway. There was all sorts of other stuff too, but it's complicated and I'm not going to get into it now," he explains with a wave of his hand, which generally means that he's perfectly willing to let the other person wonder until it either drives them insane or Brent takes it upon himself to explain all the stuff Spencer hasn't said.

"Well, and he didn't know because you never _told_ him, Spencer Smith," Brendon says, poking Spencer and then quickly fleeing to the other end of the couch when Spencer tries to retaliate.

This initiates a tickle war which only comes to a stop when Zack looms over them and orders them to behave like the adults he knows they are. Only it doesn't really stop then, because Brent grabs Zack's ankle and pulls him down. There's such chaos that no one even notices when the door to the practice room opens and Ryan slips out, a blank look on his face. He stands there for several minutes and watches them tumble about before finally clearing his throat.

It's a testimony to how dedicated these guys are to each other that they all stop immediately and shift and turn about to look at Ryan. "I have some good news and some bad news," Ryan says, staring down at his feet. "The good news is that I'm probably-certainly not dying. And, um, even if I was I wouldn't really? Because there's this weird thing where when Gallifreyans are close to death, they– Well, uh. Not dying."

Brendon crawls out of the chokehold Spencer has him in and walks over to where Ryan's standing, lightly touching his shoulder. Ryan almost immediately turns into him, inhaling deeply. "Hey," Brendon says softly, "what's the bad news?"

"I might be pregnant," Ryan mutters and god, Brendon's legs just go right out from under him.

" _WHAT?_ "

\---

Ryan calls the Doctor, because once he's brought it up, the rest of his band keep asking him about it every five seconds. So he contacts the Doctor, and after a series of incredibly embarrassing questions, (because, god, the Doctor is like a father figure to him and Ryan can't believe he was being asked about his _sex life_ ), is told that he's either a) pregnant, or b) harboring an alien parasite that would feed off of him for several months, make him swell up like a balloon, and eventually be ejected by his body. Which is to say, pregnant.

This does not go over well with Brendon. It doesn't go over well with the other guys either, but Brendon is really the one who takes it the hardest at first, even worse than Ryan. Which is, perhaps, understandable, since he _is_ Ryan's boyfriend, and thus the maybe-baby's father. He sobs apologies over and over again while Ryan awkwardly pats his back and Brent covers his ears and says he really didn't need this much detail about what-all they get up to in bed, completely ignoring the fact that he's not actually learning anything new.

"Brendon, it's got nothing to do with you," Ryan says. "It's parthenogenesis. I just have freaky, alien physiology."

"Partheno-what?" Brendon asks, blinking several times and scrubbing at his eyes, smearing his glasses. He's well-read, but he's pretty sure he's never encountered the term before. Or, if he has, he's forgotten it.

Zack shrugs. "Virgin birth."

Brendon frowns, then opens his mouth, but Ryan can guess what he's about to say and quickly covers Brendon's mouth before he gives Brent even more to complain about. "It's the _idea_ of it more than anything else," Ryan says. "Conception without fertilization. God, Brendon, you're a different _species_ , I don't think it's even possible for you to, um." Ryan flushes and buries his face in Brendon's shirt, because okay, yeah. Brendon was right earlier and he _is_ basically the Gallifreyan equivalent of a sixteen-year-old. It's embarrassing to talk about this kind of stuff, even with people who are practically family— _are_ family, in Spencer's case.

"You just randomly got yourself pregnant," Zack says, and it's clear that he is Very Skeptical of this whole thing. "Is this some sort of elaborate practical joke?" Sure, Zack's willing to believe that Brendon's psychic (it explains a lot about Brendon, after all), and that Brent's a literal opportunist (he's been a victim of Brent's thing), but this is a bit far-fetched. Ryan doesn't _look_ like an alien, and sure, he builds some really amazing stuff and a lot of the aliens Zack's had the misfortune of dealing with since meeting these guys have looked like regular people at first, but still. Zack wants some proof.

"Dude, we don't joke about Ryan's health," Jon says seriously. "He supported us freeloaders for years. We owe him big time."

"See, now. I'd believe you since you're using the serious voice and everything," Zack says, "only you used the exact same tone when you said Weevils were vicious, unstoppable killing machines right before introducing me to Veronica. So you'll understand if I doubt your sincerity about Ryan being a pregnant alien. I want some proof." Which, okay. Is fair enough. Except that it's never not funny to try and pull people's legs about Veronica, who is positively the sweetest extraterrestrial the guys have ever met, even if she does look like she'd rather maul you than make friends with you.

Ryan gulps, shifts uncomfortably where he's kneeling next to Brendon, trying to reassure him, and peeks over at Zack. "I have two hearts?" he volunteers. "If you want proof. I... Well. I'm not sure about the pregnant thing, actually. It might be something else entirely. I need to do some tests and stuff."

Zack's eyebrows go up and he comes over and crouches next to Ryan, eying him over. "Two hearts. Seriously?"

"Yeah. One on each side."

"Your heart's actually mostly in the middle of your chest, you know. It's only a little bit to the left."

"Not mine. Well. Not my right one, I mean," Ryan says. He pulls away from Brendon enough so that Zack can place a hand on his chest, feeling first one side, then the other. "And my left one is a lot to the left."

"Huh." Zack considers this for a minute, nodding. "I guess it is. That's cool, though—you've got an extra heart."

"Well, not really. I need both of them," Ryan says with a shrug. At least, he thinks he does. He's not entirely sure about that—biology confuses him, mostly, and he lets other people worry about that kind of thing. Ryan wrinkles his nose and glances at Brendon, who's been insistently tugging at his shirt for the past few minutes. "What?" he snaps, clearly annoyed.

"You might not be pregnant?" Brendon asks hopefully.

"I said that at the start, Brendon. Would it kill you to pay attention for once?"

" _Score_ ," Brendon says happily, clapping his hands. "We need to find a 24-hour drugstore and get one of those pee tests like, _now_."

"...Brendon. Those tests are meant for women. _Human_ women," Ryan says slowly. "Of which I am neither." Ryan's not in any shape to deal with Brendon freaking out at the moment, since if Brendon freaks out then Ryan can't freak out, and right now, he kinda really needs to. A lot.

"Oh. Good point. So, uh. What's going to happen? Is the Doctor going to come and give you some special alien pregnancy test? Or hook you up to a machine in the TARDIS?" Brendon asked, clearly trying to compose his face into a Very Serious expression.

"Tardis?" Zack asks Spencer, clearly confused by this whole thing.

Spencer shrugs. "It's the Doctor's space ship. And time machine," he explains. Untangling himself from the pile on the floor that was the result of the earlier tickle war, Spencer presses his face against Jon's neck for a second, takes a deep breath, and pulls away, walking over to where Ryan and Brendon are. Kneeling down, he tugs Ryan close, resting his chin on his brother's shoulder. "Hey. It's okay to freak out. This is totally something you're allowed to freak out over," he says gently. Though he's gotten better over the years, sometimes Ryan feels like he still needs to turns to Spencer in order to find out when it's okay to let go, when it's the human thing to feel upset, uncomfortable, happy.

"But, Brendon—" Ryan begins, only Brendon pulls away, scrubs at his eyes, and _glares_ at Ryan.

"Don't you dare try to be Serious and Together for me, Ryan Smith," he says sternly. "That's what Spencer and Jon and Brent and Zack are for. We get to freak out."

Ryan bites his lip, but the corners of his mouth twitch, and Brendon knows he's biting back a smile, not worrying it nervously. "You're not pregnant," he points out. "Why are you freaking out?"

" _Maybe_ pregnant," Brendon corrects. "And I have every right to freak out—I'm too young to be a dad! And you're too pretty to be a mom."

Snorting, Ryan shoves him lightly. "No way are you the dad. You're way girlier than me."

"Excuse me, but which one of us is always dressing up in ruffles? And don't even get me started on the rose vest, Ryan," Brendon says, rolling his eyes. "Plus, you're the one who's maybe-pregnant—if you're not the mom, who is?"

Ryan blinks slowly. "Spencer," he says, as if this should be totally obvious. Brendon supposes it is.

Spencer jerks back, starting to jab Ryan hard in the ribs with his elbow, though he clearly thinks better of it halfway through and softens the blow significantly. "Fuck you, Ryan," he snaps, glaring. "No way am I the— Jon, I don't think I can't see that look. If you even _think_ it, I swear I'll kick your ass so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week," he hisses viciously.

"What?" Jon asks, his thoughtful, considering look quickly changing into one of feigned innocence. "What'd I do?"

"Well, if we can't use a pee test, how're we supposed to know if you're pregnant or not?" Brent asks. He's pulled himself to his feet and is looking totally casual and okay with this. Ever since he got over the cheer coach trying to eat Brendon, Brent's rarely, if ever, looked ruffled by much of anything. "Because that's something we need to know, as a band, Ryan. Since you can't very well play if you're all giant with a baby or something."

Ryan squirms and shrugs. "I have to. Well. I should get an ultra-sound, the Doctor said," he mutters. He doesn't like doctors, or hospitals, or anything like that. He's always so afraid they'll notice the fact that he's got two hearts and isn't put together inside quite like anyone else. It's not so much that Ryan is afraid some government agency is going to kidnap him and try to dissect him or something, more that he just really doesn't want anyone to treat him like he's any different than everyone else.

"Can you build one?" Spencer asks, frowning. "An ultra-sound machine, I mean. Because I don't know about you, but I doubt any lab tech's going to keep quiet if we bring you in and they get a chance to look at your insides."

Biting his lip, Ryan nods against Brendon's neck. "But. I couldn't operate it. I mean. Not if the scan is being done on me. It would be too complicated, and anyway, I wouldn't know what I was looking for. Biology's confusing." To date, Ryan's experiments with biology number a grand total of one half. He tried to do brain surgery on Brendon once when they were sixteen, but Ryan's mother made him stop and said he wasn't allowed to do brain surgery. Ryan's not really interested in any part of the human body besides the brain, so he hasn't bothered with living things much of at all ever since.

"Eh, I could probably figure it out," Brent says, and yeah, that's a good point. Brent's the only one of them who actually bothered with college, and does have a BS in Physiology. He's actually doing some sort of correspondence-course PhD program as well now, which is... kinda weird, since TSH is used to thinking of Ryan as the really smart one and Brent as their token jock. "It might be a good idea to find out exactly how your innards are different from ours anyway," Brent adds. "In case something like this comes up again in the future."

Huffing, Ryan glares at Brent. "It's not my fault, I didn't do it on purpose. It's just... Something that happens to some Gallifreyans. If there's a specific trigger or anything that causes it, the Doctor never heard of it. It's completely random," Ryan snaps. "Though, um. It... does tend to happen more often if you, um. Happen to sexually active before a certain age," he mutters, glancing to the side and blushing slightly. Next to him, Brendon has the decency to look slightly ashamed.

"Don't worry," Brendon reassures him, patting his knee. "We're going to be the best parents ever. It's going to be _awesome_."

"Except for the part where we have to hiatus for at least four months unless we want the world to know that our male lyricist has managed to impregnate himself," Brent observes.

"Oh god. What the hell are we going to tell _Pete?_ " Brendon squeaks.

"Nothing," Spencer growls. "It's none of Pete's fucking business."

"Well, technically," Zack begins, but he quickly swallows the rest of what he was going to say when Spencer glares at him.

"Pete's never needed to know about Ryan not being human, I hardly think he needs to know about this now," Spencer snaps. "If Ryan really is pregnant, we'll... take a break. If Gallifreyan pregnancy is anything like human ones, Ryan probably won't be really be showing until he's four, five months along, so we'll be able to give at least that much prior warning. We can just say we want to concentrate on... on writing a new album. Touring is too distracting, we can't possibly do it on the road."

Ryan squirms, pulling his face free of where he's had it buried against Brendon's neck. "Spencer. That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. No one's ever going to believe that."

"But we're not actually going to get off the road, right?" Brendon frets, pulling Ryan closer and snuggling him like a security blanket. "Because, um. I really don't want a repeat of the cabin." They all shift uncomfortably except for Zack, because they remember what happened the last time they tried to "relax" and take a break from traveling. Even Brent, who didn't actually experience that fiasco since he was in school at the time, remembers the way the repercussions of the cabin effected the band for months afterwards. It wasn't pretty.

"No, of course not," Spencer says reassuringly, squeezing Brendon's shoulder reassuringly.

"Damn, man. All I can say is I really hope you've got some really nasty food poisoning," Jon says with a sigh. "It would suck, sure, but it has to be easier than trying to hide something like a baby from Pete."

It takes Ryan four days to build an ultra-sound machine, which is two days longer than something like that would normally take him, but it's hard to concentrate on electronics on things when he's feeling queasy and tired half the time. He finally finishes it, though, and everyone crowds around, watching the screen as Ryan lies on the couch, clutching at Brendon's hand while Brent moves the wand attached to the machine around on Ryan's bare abdomen. Each time something new comes onto the screen, Brendon squeezes Ryan's hand a little tighter, and asks Brent if it's the baby. Finally Ryan tells him he either has to let go or not look at the screen until Brent says he can. It's a great sacrifice, but Brendon manages to tear his eyes away from the screen, giving Ryan a weak smile. "Sorry," he whispers. "I'm just. Really excited."

"I know," Ryan confides. "Me too."

"And if you two can stand to stop being mushy for a moment and turn your attentions to the screen," Brent says, "you'll be able to see the little bundle of dividing cells that's Ryan's baby."

" _Our_ baby," Ryan corrects him automatically as he twists to see the screen, squeezing Brendon's hand tightly with his own.

Brendon frowns suspiciously at the screen. "Brent. Are you sure that's a baby? It's a blob. It hasn't got arms or legs or anything. I think that's Ryan's colon or something."

Brent sighs. "Brendon. It's an embryo. It's not going to look like much of anything for another couple weeks or so. And even then it will look like a small, alien blob. It won't really look like a baby until it's about eighteen weeks old or so," he says.

"Brent, I hate to break it to you, but it _is_ an alien blob," Spencer says, peering at the screen. He brightens suddenly and nudges Jon, smiling brilliantly at him. "Jon, Jon, I'm going to be an _uncle_ ," he says happily.

Jon smiles back at him, wrapping an arm around Spencer's waist and gently kissing his cheek. "You are going to be one of the best uncles ever, Spencer Smith," he murmurs.

"What, not the best?" Spencer asks, a bit surprised. He's maybe grown a little accustomed to Jon insisting on placing him on a pedestal.

"No, that's going to be me," Jon says happily, staring raptly at the screen.

"This is foreshadowing of things is to come," Brent says mournfully to Zack over the heads of the rest of his band. "We're going to be surrounded by a general air of matrimonial and familial bliss. Soon, nine o'clock bedtimes will be instated, cursing will be forbidden, and all alcohol and recreational drugs will be banned from the car."

Zack raises an eyebrow. "Clearly you haven't been paying attention to the band you're in," he says dryly. "With the exception of cursing, that's pretty much the state of things now."

"Shut up," Brendon says from where he's busy trying to curl himself around Ryan. "You both know you're going to be just as bad about spoiling this kid rotten as the rest of us."

Ryan sighs. Sadly, he's pretty sure Brendon's right. No matter how hard he tries, there's no way this kid is going to have a normal childhood. Which is probably just as well—normal, Ryan has learned, is boring.

\---

A few days after they've determined the cause of Ryan's medical misfortunes, Brendon's sitting in the dressing room before a show, doing his makeup and humming softly to himself when Ryan walks over and folds himself up in Brendon's lap, tucking his face against Brendon's chest. "...Ryan?" Brendon asks cautiously, feeling very, very grateful that Ryan is talented enough to do all that with jostling Brendon's arm. Brendon knows from experience that jabbing yourself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil hurts like a bitch.

"I just. I need," Ryan says, words muffled by Brendon's shirt, but he can hear the hesitancy, the stutter, the _need_.

"Shh," Brendon murmurs softly, dropping the pencil on the table and gently rubbing Ryan's back with his knuckles. "Calm down, it's okay. Just calm down." It's a sign of how out of sorts Ryan is that he's doing this here, out in the relative open. None of the band feel like sharing their private lives with the world at large, so they generally keep the public displays of affection to a minimum outside Black Belinda, away from their respective families.

"Just, hold me?" Ryan asks in a small voice, and Brendon knows Ryan hates this, knows he hates feeling helpless, feeling out of sorts. Ungainly.

"Sure," Brendon says, continuing to rub Ryan's back.

"Thanks," Ryan murmurs. "I just. Needed this. Is all."

"Yeah," Brendon nods, cuddling Ryan closer. "I know. Me too."

\---

Unsurprisingly, it starts with Spencer, but pretty soon Jon, Brent, and Zack have joined in too, reading pretty much every book on pregnancy ever. Or at least every book that they can get their hands on. However, while consume text after text, Brendon laughs and runs about, playing with Dylan or begging Zack to let him skateboard across the parking lot. At first Ryan's upset and annoyed that Brendon doesn't seem interested in getting involved. But then the other guys start regurgitating all the knowledge they've soaked up, and everyone seems oh so sure that they know what's best for Ryan, what he should be doing to take care of his health. And it's really, really annoying. Finally he just growls with frustration and stomps off to hide in his bed.

He doesn't notice when the door opens, but he definitely feels the mattress shift under him as another weight settles down on it. "What," snaps Ryan angrily, "are you going to say what's best for me too?"

A hand settles on his head, resting there lightly. "Hey," Brendon says softly, combing his fingers through Ryan's hair. "Calm down."

"Oh, right, of course. Agitation isn't good for the baby," Ryan gripes, though he can feel his body relaxing already at Brendon's touch, automatically turning into it.

"I guess, maybe? I was really thinking that it's not good for _you_ to be too worried," says Brendon. Ryan blinks slowly, absorbing the seriousness, soothing tone of Brendon's voice. For the first time, Ryan wonders if perhaps he's been wrong in his assumption that Brendon's completely ignored the various books that the others have been passing amongst themselves over the past month.

Ryan sighs and presses into Brendon's hand, turning his head slightly so as to see him. "Hi," he says softly. "We're going to have a baby."

"I heard," Brendon says with a smile, rubbing Ryan's cheek with his thumb. "You scared?"

"Yes. Babies are a lot of work, and. I don't want to mess up. I want to be a good dad," Ryan says, voice quivering as he wraps his arms around Brendon and tugs down to lie beside him on the bed.

"How about I make sure you don't mess up, and you make sure I don't mess up?" Brendon murmurs, resting his forehead against Ryan's. "And the other guys will help. You know they will."

Ryan frowns, the look on his face suddenly turning dark. "They just want to tell me how I'm doing things wrong, or what I need to eat, or how I should feel, or—"

"Hey," Brendon interrupts him, kissing him gently. "Calm down. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Just tell 'em to stuff it next time they try to push you around. Or zap 'em with a stunner. It's your body, you get ultimate say over it."

"Actually, some of the stuff Brent's been spouting about taking extra vitamins is probably a good idea," Ryan concedes. "But Jon keeps trying to do things for me—he won't even let me walk across the room to get something half the time! And Spencer wants me to stop playing shows until this is over."

"Spencer is an idiot. I mean, yeah, it was one thing when we didn't know what the problem was and we thought you might fall over dead at any minute, but now that we know you aren't, there isn't any reason you shouldn't be able to go on stage," Brendon says firmly, wrapping his arms around Ryan and tugging him closer.

"He says it's too much stress on the baby," Ryan mumbles, burrowing into Brendon's embrace and making little pleased noises in the back of his throat.

"When Spencer has a baby, _then_ he can start on what's too stressful. This isn't his baby, it's yours."

"Ours," Ryan corrects, lifting his face to meet Brendon's eyes. "You know that, right? Always ours, Brendon, not just mine."

Brendon shifts uncomfortably, glancing away slightly. "I. Wasn't sure. I mean. You made it clear that I didn't have anything to do with it, and—"

"Brendon Urie, you are going to have this child with me whether you like it or not," Ryan snaps, and Brendon gives him a shy smile. "You're a part of everything that matters to me, Brendon," Ryan says, his tone softening. "Of course you're a part of this as well."

Turning his head to look at Ryan, Brendon bites his lip nervously, trying to keep from back a smile. From the way the corners of his mouth are twitching, he's having a hard time doing it. "Sometimes you say the sweetest things _ever_ ," Brendon says, bumping their noses together. "I pretty much have to kiss you now," he adds, and he does.

Ryan moans and presses closer, fingers clutching at Brendon's shirt, tugging it up impatiently. "Love you," he murmurs between gentle nips at Brendon's lips. He fully intends to make the most of the time he has before he's bloated and huge, busy growing another living thing inside himself (and just the thought of it makes Ryan's stomach twist and sends a warm thrill through his body as he reluctantly pulls back just long enough tug off Brendon's shirt). Nuzzling Brendon's neck, Ryan smoothes his hands down his bare chest, smiling slightly when Brendon fights back a giggle.

"That tickles," Brendon snickers, squirming. He turns his head his head a little and presses a kiss to Ryan's forehead. "Hey. Love you too. We're totally going to make it through this. It's going to be awesome."

"Yeah," Ryan agrees, smiling against Brendon's neck. "It totally is."

\---

It falls to Brent to tell Pete they're going on hiatus. This is partly because Brent is scarily talented when it comes to lying, but mostly because the rest of the band knows that if Brent does it, Pete won't ask any questions. He'll be overly annoying and intolerable about it, yes, but he won't pry. There are times when Brendon is really, really grateful for Brent's thing, even when it does freak him out. While they wait for Brent to finish spinning some fantastic story about how they want to do another album but touring is too distracting, they need some time off to work on it, the rest of the band draws up a plan of attack.

"We can't stay in one place," Jon says straight off. "I mean, it'd probably be better for Ryan if he didn't travel very much, but we don't want a repeat of what happened last time."

"Right," Spencer says.

"I'm fine with traveling," Ryan says with a shrug. He's curled up in the armchair, his body tucked around Brendon's. Ryan's found that he feels more comfortable lately when snuggled up with Brendon—it's comforting and reassuring to know there's someone there to support him, and Brendon never complains. "It's not like we're camping or in a bus or anything. We've practically got a house in the back of Black Belinda, after all." A really, really nice house ever since the Doctor showed Ryan how to expand the pocket space so that he could add more rooms. "I'd rather be at home anyway," he adds, because that's what Belinda is to all of them—home.

Zack coughs. "That's all well and good," he says, "but what's the point in trying to keep this all hushed up if you're going to just gallivant about the country with Ryan obviously pregnant? Even if he stays in the car the whole time, it's still going to raise questions—people are going to wonder where he is for one."

"Oh," Brendon says quietly. "Hadn't thought of that."

"Well, what if," Jon starts, then stops, frowning. Beside him, Spencer squeezes his thigh encouragingly and apparently that's enough extra encouragement for Jon. Swallowing, Jon speaks carefully. "People are going to wonder how Ryan ended up with a baby anyway. We're enough in the public eye that I don't think forging some adoption papers is really going to be an option. If we honestly want to keep this quiet and everything, that baby's going to need a mother. Well. A female mother."

Brendon frowns. "It's Ryan's baby. They can't take away his baby just because he can't prove how he got it." As soon as he's said this, however, it apparently occurs to him just how silly that sounds. "Oh. Wait. Yeah, okay, I guess you have a point. So, what? We need a surrogate who isn't actually a surrogate? Whoever we get to do it is going to want to know where the baby comes from, though, and that's just asking for trouble, telling a random stranger about Ryan." He snuggles up to Ryan, one hand slipping down to rest comfortably just below Ryan's belly, and Ryan makes a pleased little sound, pressing his face against Brendon's neck and inhaling deeply.

"What if it's not a random stranger," Jon suggests. "What if we get Stacey to do it?"

The room is silent for half a beat, then both Spencer and Ryan are saying, "NO," glares clear on their faces. Brent appears equally displeased with Jon's suggestion, though he isn't quite so loud as the other two. Brendon and Zack both give Jon considering looks like his idea has merit, and Ryan pulls away from Brendon to give him a dirty look.

"We are _not_ making Stacey into an unwed mother," Spencer snaps, Ryan nodding in fierce agreement.

"She has her own band to worry about," Brent points out. "It's not fair to her to put her career on hold so that she can go into hiding and pretend to be pregnant." Where Ryan and Spencer are worried about Stacey's reputation, it seems Brent's concerned about her career. Huh. Ryan pushes that thought out of his head to address at a later time.

"She won't actually be pregnant," Brendon is pointing out beside him. "And I'm pretty sure that Ryan could whip up something to make it look like she's pregnant, which'll mean that she doesn't have to hide away. And she doesn't play an instrument that'll be too difficult to manage with a large stomach."

"She'll never agree to it," Ryan says triumphantly, and Jon and Brendon sigh, because yeah, they know Stacey Smith. Ryan knows that there's no way she'll ever agree to anything like this. She's too willful and independent. Ryan blames Spencer for that one.

Zack shrugs. "You never know, she might. Though, if Ryan can make a machine that'll make her look pregnant, wouldn't it be easy enough for him to make one that makes it look like he _isn't_?"

"It's not that simple," Ryan says with a frown. "I mean, sure, I could modify a Raxacoricofallapatorian compression field, but I don't think it would be a good idea to squish the baby like that. They're delicate. Babies, I mean. And mechanics-wise it wouldn't work that well to have Stacey pretend to be pregnant, not unless we actually stuffed her shirt or something. It's harder to create the physical illusion of a sense of mass than it is to compress mass. Plus, it would have to be responsive—babies kick and stuff, don't they?" While he's totally opposed to the idea of his sister pretending to be pregnant on his behalf, Ryan's already started to think through the problem. Strictly in theoretical terms, of course.

"Well, what if you two switched places? Then there wouldn't be any problems with change in mass," Zack says.

Brendon grins at this. "Stacey would totally make a great Ryan," he says, laughing. Ryan glares at him, but it's not a mean glare, really, because yeah, Stacey can do a pretty kick ass impression of him.

Nearly two hours later, Brendon and Jon have somehow managed to convince the rest of the band to at least ask Stacey to try and help them out. They manage to bring Brent (the traitor) over to their side when Jon points out that if Stacey agrees, she'll end up having to stick around with the band quite a bit, so as to join them for public appearances, etcetera, and Brent is apparently very much a fan of that. Ryan has to admit that it's actually pretty easy to wear him down into agreeing—Brendon snuggles up to him, cuddling close and whispering in his ear while lightly stroking Ryan's stomach and Ryan knows that no one else can hear what's Brendon's saying, but the entire time he just turns pinker and pinker, and he's pretty sure that he slowly gets a very, very silly grin on his face. After that, Jon tries to convince Spencer—takes him to the other room and _everything_ —but it doesn't work and eventually Ryan has to do it. "It's just asking," Ryan says quietly from where he and Brendon are tucked around each other on the couch. "Not forcing her to do anything. Just asking, Spence."

In the end it turns out not to matter though, because once called, Stacey says quite pointedly that, much as she loves her brother, she has absolutely no intention of ditching her band for however many months it takes for Ryan to pop out this kid. "It isn't as if people won't believe you if you tell them you've knocked yourself up," she tells Ryan over speakerphone. "You lot run down aliens on a regular basis. People expect odd things from you." Which might be true, Ryan admits, except that people expect odd actions, or odd behaviour. Ryan and the others don't want anyone to question their _physical_ normality. Scientists might try to cut open Brendon or Brent's head! The government might try and deport Ryan as an illegal alien! Not to mention the fact that Ryan's species apparently has a whole slew of enemies. Better to have personal enemies rather than get involved in disputes that span centuries.

"It's not so bad," Jon says when they get off the phone with Stacey. "We still have a couple months. Maybe we'll think of some better plan before then." He doesn't sound particularly optimistic, though, and across the room Brendon sighs. Ryan makes an inquisitive noise, grimacing when Brendon shares the thought that he never expected having a baby to require so much subterfuge.

\---

It's not something he exactly went looking to know, but after the number of years Patrick's known Pete, known Andy, known about aliens living quiet, unobtrusive lives on Earth, you learn to pick up on the tells. Not that Patrick really couldn't care less if the guy who's been building engines for Pete for the past six, seven years happens to be an alien. Sure, Spencer Smith has done an alright job keeping his brother's extraterrestrial origins all quiet, but if anyone just took a step back and _looked_ , they would see there's something not quite right about Ryan Smith straight off.

Patrick's pretty sure it only took him about five minutes to figure this out when he met the kids for the first time back in '04, when Brendon burst in babbling some nonsense about Pete being an alien. An understandable mistake, Patrick knows—Gabe still holds the record for the highest number times he's been erroneously identified as an alien by U.N.I.T., but Pete's always been hot on his heels in that respect. After correcting the kids' mistake and directing their attention to Andy, who's the band's actual alien, Patrick was content to just let the kids chatter away at the others while he sat back and watched.

It doesn't bother Patrick that Ryan's an alien, but then it's something he's already accustomed to, since Andy's never been anything other than one hundred percent open about his own origins. Patrick doesn't ever bring up Ryan's non-human status with Ryan's band, since he figures that The Storybook Hour must have a reason to want to keep it secret, and Patrick respects that, he understands why they might have problems with sharing it with just anyone the way Andy does. Earth and its denizens generally seem to get the short end of the stick when it comes to encounters with aliens, after all.

Then Patrick happens to catch the tail end of an interview over Pete's shoulder one day. At first Patrick thinks he's seeing things, only on the screen Ryan leans over to murmur something to Brendon, and his shirt pulls taut and clings for a moment to what looks like the start of a pot belly, and if there's one thing Patrick knows, it's that Ryan Smith is the last person who will ever get a beer gut.

He isn't about to jump to any conclusions, though, so instead of saying anything about that, he asks Pete, "Hey. Weren't you saying something about The Storybook Hour wanting to take a break from touring for a bit?" Light, testing. Feeling things out.

Pete grumbles and nods. "For 'artistic reasons.' They've been traveling all over the country for ages, I don't see why they can't just work on their new album while touring like they did with the last one." He glares at the screen as if hoping that doing so will somehow convince the kids to change their minds.

"Wasn't Ryan having all types of health problems a couple months back? I think Jon said something about it being because of stress," Patrick says vaguely, because if he just saw what he thinks he saw, the kids really don't need Pete breathing down their necks, trying to psychically bend their minds to his will. "They could probably really do with at break."

"I guess," Pete grudgingly agrees, snuggling up against Patrick's side. The pout quickly disappears, though, and he leans his head on Patrick's shoulder. "I don't want to be the big bad guy driving them to the ground... It's just that it feels like there's something off about all this."

Patrick sighs and awkwardly pats the top of Pete's head. "Hey. Would it make you feel any better if I went and checked up on them? Made sure they're not possessed by brain-eating aliens or something?"

Pete beams up at him. "You'd do that for me? It'd really put my mind at ease, I think."

"Sure, why not? Haven't caught one of their shows in a while, could be fun," Patrick says casually. He doesn't tell Pete that he's planning on checking up on Ryan no matter what, because Patrick _knows_ a baby bump when he sees one. And really, you can't be going into that kind of thing blind.

\---

Three days later, Patrick's waiting at the venue for the guys' next show when Black Belinda pulls up. It takes some time to pry Brendon off and say hi to the other guys, But as soon as they're inside and it's just Patrick and the band, he leans against the wall, fixes Ryan with a look, and asks, "I don't suppose you happen to know how many months along you are?"

The rest of the band is shocked by Patrick's question, Brendon immediately moving in front of Ryan and glaring, saying he doesn't know what the fuck Patrick is talking about. Brendon is obviously prepared to defend Ryan (and his bump!) against Patrick with his LIFE if he must, which really isn't any different than how Brendon normally is. But Brent and Jon moving closer to join Brendon in forming a protective wall between Ryan and Patrick is.

Spencer alone stays in place, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he studies Patrick. The others might be shocked and surprised by Patrick's apparent knowledge of Ryan's situation, but Spencer... Spencer's been watching Patrick for a while, paying attention to him for years now, and if there's one thing Spencer knows, it's that there's more to Patrick Stump than most people think. "Brent puts it at about four months. What's it to you?" Spencer snaps. While Spencer realizes Patrick is more than he seems, he also trusts Patrick. Trusts Patrick to know when to leave well enough alone and when to say something. He's not so much _suspicious_ of Patrick at the moment as he is curious. Spencer readily acknowledges that he has a tendency to be overly paranoid when it comes to people who decide to take an interest in Ryan.

Patrick studies Spencer right on back. "He needs a lot of iron and calcium. Spinach, brassicas—those are cruciform vegetables like brussels sprouts, kale, broccoli, and the like. Iron supplements... probably about three times what a woman would need in his situation," Patrick says, ticking points off on his fingers. "Also, hm. Imitation cheese products. There's this chemical they put in that stuff that he should probably be getting plenty of as well. It'll help with the nausea if nothing else."

Spencer relaxes slightly and gives Patrick a tight nod. Across the room, Jon frowns. "Wait, Spencer—you're just going to believe him about all that shit?"

"He's Patrick," Spencer says with a shrug. "He knows stuff."

"Yeah, well. How does he know stuff about this kind of thing?" Brendon asks suspiciously, cocking his hips and fixing Patrick with his decidedly scary and nasty glare. The message is clear—Spencer may trust Patrick, but Brendon doesn't. Understandable, since Brendon is like Spencer in that he rarely trusts anyone outside the band when it comes to Ryan.

Tilting his head back slightly, Patrick gives Brendon an odd look. "You're a rock band. You do realize that this kind of thing happens on a semi-regular basis, right?"

Brendon gapes. "Wait, it does?"

"Sure. You heard what happened to Frank, right?" Patrick asks.

Jon shoots Spencer a look. "Fucking Frank Iero," Jon mutters, narrowing his eyes. Spencer gazes steadily back. He knows that Jon is determined to get Spencer to say what the deal is with Frank one of these days.

Brendon is obviously very keen about this Frank thing. "Does Frank have two hearts?" he asks eagerly, taking a step towards Patrick and momentarily forgetting his defense of Ryan.

"Brendon," Spencer snaps, and Brendon goes very still, as well he should. He nearly tipped Patrick off about Ryan, and that's fucking _dangerous_.

Ryan rests his chin on Brendon's shoulder and studies Patrick with a sort of detached curiosity. "Imitation cheese products? Really?" he asks. Trust Ryan to pick out one tiny, bizarre fact and focus on that to the extent of excluding everything else around him.

Patrick shrugs. "Yeah, I don't know. It's a little disturbing what they put in that stuff, most of the time, but hey, if it works..."

"So, what. You just... know random stuff about male pregnancies?" Brent asks. He pulls up a chair and folds himself up on it, alert and attentive. Except for his thing, Brent's as normal as they come, but sometimes the weirdest shit will pique his interest.

Pulling down on the brim of his hat, Patrick shrugs. "You hang out in the right circles long enough and you pick up some stuff," he hedges. "I don't know all the technical stuff or anything, but I know some useful stuff, I guess."

"You just 'picked it up'?" Spencer asks, latching onto that little tidbit. "What, do you know someone who's done this before?"

"Something like that, I guess," Patrick says, rubbing his nose. "I just thought Ryan shouldn't go into this blind."

"We're not going in blind," Brendon insists. "We have the Doctor to help us! Well, not really, because he's not around much, but for the basics and the big stuff."

"I'd think a doctor would be more interested in cutting Ryan up than giving advice," Patrick says, lips drawn tight and thin. Spencer vaguely remembers Pete having mentioned sometime that Patrick has a weird doctor-phobia. Or something. Dislikes them a lot for some weird, unknown Patrick reason.

Brendon sighs and rolls his eyes. "Not a doctor-doctor, _the Doctor_. He's this really awesome alien we know who knows, like... _everything_. The Doctor is _awesome_." Spencer has to agree with this, particularly now that he knows the Doctor has no intention of taking Ryan away from them.

"Oh," Patrick says flatly. Then, "He's still around? You've talked to him? Damn, I thought—"

"We run into each other sometimes," Spencer says, arms crossed as he stares Patrick down. "What of it?"

"Nothing. Just... I think Andy might've mentioned him once is all," Patrick says vaguely, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Kind of famous or something? I don't know, not my thing. But hey, if he's helping you..." He shrugs.

Spencer narrows his eyes, but it's clear that Patrick isn't going to say anything more, which is a shame. There are many things that Spencer finds suspicious about Patrick Stump, and if there was something up with Patrick, Spencer would not be surprised in the least. He sighs. "Whatever. It's like Brendon says—the Doctor isn't around much, so it's not like we can really depend on him to help us out with this whole thing, so if you've got any advice, it probably couldn't hurt to hear it."

Patrick turns out to be full of advice on this kind of stuff. Which would be really, really weird, except that he _does_ hang around Pete Wentz, who is just about the weirdest human the guys have ever met, and Andy, who is, well. An alien. When both of these facts are considered, it's really not the least bit surprising that Patrick is a veritable font of information on the subject of male pregnancy. "Really," Patrick reassures them, "weird shit like this happens all the time. One time this chick stalked Andy for, like... three months because she thought he was a vampire and she wanted him to bite her."

"Dude, isn't Andy vegan?" Brent asks, looking a tad freaked out by this news.

"Yeah, but only because his body can't process the protein strings found in Earth animals," Patrick says with a shrug.

"But that's just a fan acting weird," Jon says. "Groupies are a little odd in the head in general. They can't help it."

"Well, and Pete grew wings once, too," Patrick volunteers. "They tried to eat his soul and we had to get Bob to scare them off, since they were psychic manifestations or something."

"Bob Bryar is my hero," Brendon says solemnly.

"Dude, Bob tried to smoosh you once," Brent says, frowning.

"He didn't really mean it!"

"Brendon. Bryar fucking _threatened to maim you_ ," Spencer snaps.

"Lies! Slander! You cannot deny that Bob is made of pure awesome—we all know about your 'secret' drummer crush on him, Spencer Smith, so you can just shut it," Brendon sniffs. He exchanges high-fives with Patrick.

"Pure awesome," Patrick agrees.

Once past their initial suspicion, the guys and Patrick end up bonding. Patrick tells Ryan it's totally okay to randomly call him in the middle of the night, freaking out. "It's fine, _really_ —I know you'll be a lot more responsible about it than Pete is, even with the hormones mucking up your head and everything," Patrick reassures him when Ryan wibbles about it. Spencer and Brent loom over Patrick until he's cowed into agreeing to not tell Pete anything, seriously, Stump, _anything_ about Ryan being pregnant. At least, that's what they try to do—Jon and Brendon watch and snicker with each other, because it's pretty clear that Patrick does not feel the least bit threatened by Spencer and Brent's looming. All in all, the evening is declared a definite success.

\---

The thing about The Storybook Hour is that, while the band isn't embraced by the scene in the same way that most of the other bands on Pete's label are (it all comes down to their music and the subject matter of their songs—teenagers seem to have this idea that it's not right for them to like songs about unicorns and fairy tales and stuff), they're probably one of the best known bands in the mainstream media. Ironically enough, it has a lot to do with the subject matter of their songs. "Popular, wholesome music appropriate for the whole family," is what some of the newspapers and magazines like to call it, which always causes Brendon to have giggle fits, because clearly, _clearly_ those people have never actually sat down and looked at the lyrics for, oh, say, 'Little Red Shoes.'

Spencer says the _really_ fascinating thing is that it's that song that the over-zealous conservative types often choose to cite as, "an example of The Storybook Hour's attempts to corrupt the youth of today," rather than the ones about unicorns and dragons and stuff. Apparently this is because they seem to think the song is some vague allusion to the fantastical and thus highly inappropriate _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_. "You would think they'd be capable of running a Google search," Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "If 'The Red Shoes' is about anything, it's impiety, geez."

Ryan just blinks owlishly and says, "I like the bit at the end where she begs the executioner to cut her feet off." Needless to say, 'Little Red Shoes,' is probably the song whose lyrics Ryan's most proud of to date. (Sometimes, Zack really wonders about Ryan. Then Ryan smiles, turns to Brendon, and asks him quite seriously what he thinks of fairies, and whether or not it would be possible to get Brent to wear sparkly, nylon wings, and Zack remembers that as odd as Ryan Smith is, he's mostly harmless, and will likely remain that way as long as he has the rest of the band.)

With all this in mind, it's probably not surprising that the media is overly curious about the reasons behind the band's hiatus. Spencer feels that Pete should be able to handle the press stuff while the band themselves shouldn't actually have to make any statements beyond their initial, "We decided that our goal as a band this year would be to put out a second album, only it's difficult trying to do that while we're touring, so we're taking a break for a few months to get it written." He says this, loudly, and Pete tries to smooth his feathers, explaining that no, that's nowhere near enough. That even though they're on hiatus so they can concentrate on getting their album done, the guys are also somehow lined up to give even more interviews in the next few months than usual.

"Okay, this is some seriously screwed up shit," Jon growls when they get off the phone with Pete. "Doesn't anyone understand the whole bit about us needing some time to ourselves?"

Brendon shrinks back a little, because seriously. Seriously, an angry Jon Walker is just really, really scary. You wouldn't think it, because Jon's usually a really nice, easy going guy, but the fact that he doesn't normally get angry—really angry, not just frumpy, "What do you mean you ate all my cereal again, Urie?" angry—all that often makes the times that he does get angry that much scarier. Luckily, Brendon has Ryan to cuddle and Zack to hide behind while Spencer attempts to calm Jon down.

Or, um. Maybe not, because Spencer looks just as angry as Jon. Which is really scary, because when Spencer gets angry, he starts threatening people and/or things, and Spencer's threats are never, ever idle threats, something Brendon has possibly had to learn this the hard way. "They're going to start asking questions if Ryan's not there," Spencer growls. "Fuck Stacey and her stupid fucking _band_." Gulping, Brendon shrinks behind Zack some more, because Zack is totally like a lead shield to Spencer's nuclear temper.

Apparently, Zack is even better than a lead shield, though, because while Brendon's busy cowering, he hears Zack say, "You know, last I checked, Stacey wasn't your only sister, Smith." And, oh, hey. Hey. _Dude._

"Dude, Zack. You are brilliant," Brendon breathes. "Absolutely _brilliant_. Susie is so way more awesome than Stacey, she will _totally_ come through for us." Because Susie doesn't have a band, doesn't even have a career at the moment beyond defeating evil wizards or whatever it is she's doing. Only. "But, Zack, Susie's _eighteen_."

"I. You. What? _No_ ," Ryan says, and Brendon knows he's appalled by the idea of his baby sister being asked to pretend to have his kid.

Jon sighs and rubs his temples. "Look, either we get someone to pretend to be you in public or you build some sort of compression field to hide your bulge. I'm going to assume the latter just isn't an option, since you've already insisted that we take a break from touring rather than bother trying it."

"Well. Maybe I could... build some sort of robot instead," Ryan tentatively suggests.

"Right. So it can break down in the middle of an interview. Wouldn't _that_ just be lovely," Brent mutters pessimistically

"You don't _know_ that it'd break down," Ryan protests, tone petulant.

"Remember how many tries it took you to build a working engine for Black Belinda? I'm sorry, Ryan, but I really don't think a robot is a good idea at this point," Spencer says reluctantly. "Maybe we can find someone else to do it, someone who isn't Susie..."

"I thought you wanted to keep the whole alien thing as much under wraps as possible," Zack says, raising an eyebrow. "Each time you let another person in on the secret, the chance of it leaking to the public increases."

"Well... Maybe we could... just tell whoever we get that it's a completely random case of male pregnancy?" Brendon suggests hopefully. "I mean, remember what Patrick said—this kind of thing isn't all that unusual for bands. He didn't even consider that Ryan might not be human when he found out about it."

Spencer snorts at this and mutters something about Brendon being way too trusting. Brendon and the other guys just ignore him—Spencer's oddly paranoid when it comes to Patrick Stump, likes to say he thinks Patrick knows more than he lets on. He has absolutely no proof to support his theories, though, so they've just come to think of it as one of Spencer's odd quirks.

"Bringing in a stranger still increases the chance of it getting out that Ryan's pregnant," Zack points out. "Now, I don't know about you, but if I was a government type and I heard that some guy who regularly deals with hostile aliens was knocked up, I'd suspect him of being involuntarily impregnated by one of the nasty aliens he's been fighting and I'd be _really_ suspicious of that baby."

Wide-eyed, Brendon nods enthusiastically. "Oh, dude, totally. Like in _Lost In Space_! Or _Alien_."

Spencer rolls his eyes. "You refuse to even watch _Alien_ , Brendon. You've said it freaks you out too much."

"But I know the _concept_ , Spencer Smith, and that's the important thing in this case."

Sighing, Spencer closes his eyes and presses closer to Jon. "...look, Ryan," he says after a few minutes of silence, "much as I hate to admit it, Zack and the others do have a point about Susie being our best bet for this after Stacey. She already knows about you being a Gallifreyan, she knows you well enough that she could probably pull off an accurate enough imitation of you. And she's young enough that it would be reasonable for her to sign guardianship of her kid over to you."

"And Brendon," Ryan corrects him automatically. "Over to me and Brendon." Beside him, Brendon catches Ryan's hand and squeezes it, eyes bright.

"You do realize that if you two adopt a kid together, you'll basically be outing yourselves as a couple once and for all, right?" Jon asks, which is a good point. While it's common enough knowledge that Jon and Spencer are together, Ryan and Brendon have so far managed to keep their relationship from ever being anything more vague rumors. They've kept it under wraps partly for publicity reasons and partly because neither Brendon nor Ryan particularly want to discuss it during interviews, since it has little to do with their songs or their music.

Ryan frowns and reluctantly nods. "We'll deal with that later," he mutters, slumping lower on the couch, clearly sulking. "I suppose I've been overruled about Susie?"

"We should at least ask her before we start looking at complete strangers," Brendon says softly, rubbing Ryan's knee reassuringly. "She could always say no."

Ryan huffs, but he gives a sharp, jerking nod as he curls into and around Brendon. "Fine," he grumbles. "But you lot get to try and track her down on your own. I'm not going to help you."

Zack raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Track her down? We can't just call her?"

"Not really. Remember how Susie ran off last fall?" Jon asks, rubbing the back of his head.

"Yeah..."

"Well, when she didn't just run off. She left with a witch," Jon explains.

"A witch," Zack says. From the tone of his voice it's obvious that he doesn't believe what he's being told.

"Electronics and magic don't always mix that well, so Susie doesn't bother with a phone," Jon finishes.

"Magic. Right, of course." Zack shakes his head. "Sorry, guys. Aliens I'll buy, I guess. Kind of hard not to after what I've seen while traveling with the five of you. But magic? That's just... No."

"We've met witches, though." Brendon says, frowning. "Not Susie's witch, but we met some witches who go—went—to school with Susie's."

"Witches' school. Yeah, not buying it."

"Oh, but it gets even better," Brent says, smiling at Zack. "Their _alma mater_ is Hogwarts."

\---

Zack is understandably skeptical of the news that the world of _Harry Potter_ is real. ("But not Harry Potter himself," Brendon explains earnestly. "He's complete fiction.") In the end, the guys find it easiest to just not bother trying to convince him of the reality of magic. It isn't as if Zack _needs_ to believe it exists. And besides, it's best to leave things like that to the experts.

Naia looks rather surprised when they show up on her doorstep. "Wow," she says, blinking several times. She's taller than she was back in December, taller and obviously several years older and Brendon finds it strange and disconcerting, even though he knew to expect it. "This is really. Wow, um. I didn't think you'd ever actually _come_ ," she stutters as she steps aside so that they can enter.

"Zack," Brendon says once they're inside Naia's apartment and she's shut the door, "remember how you were saying you couldn't believe in magic? I'd like you to meet Naia. She is an honest-to-god witch and kind of full of awesome." He does a little flourish before gesturing to Naia. "Naia, this is Zack. He's the babysitter the label stuck us with, but we love him anyway."

"Um, hi," Naia says, waving nervously. Brendon understands her nervousness—Zack is big and scary looking when you don't know that he's basically a big teddy bear who totally lets Brendon climb all over him.

"Aren't witches supposed to wear black and have green skin and warts and things? That is _not_ a witch," Zack says stubbornly as he looks Naia up and down, no doubt taking in her frumpy grey sweater and worn jeans. "She's a redhead, for one."

Naia's nervousness quickly sharpens into righteous anger at Zack's words. "Excuse me," she snaps, "but I resent that remark, as would many hags, I'm sure. And if you make any Weasley jokes, I _will_ hex your balls backwards, Muggle or not."

Zack snorts. "I'd like to see you—" he begins, but before he can go any further Brent steps up and claps a hand over his mouth.

"You don't want to do that, man, seriously. It's just a bad idea to piss her off. Trust me," he hisses, face deadly serious, and Brendon nods in agreement, eyes wide. Naia may seem slight and safe, but Brendon totally remembers how she was back in December when her friend was threatened. Yikes.

"Anyway," Naia says as she claps her hands together and smiles at the boys, pointedly ignoring Zack, "what brings you chaps to New York? I heard the band was on hiatus...?"

The guys shift uncomfortably for a moment, and finally, Jon says, "Actually, we were wondering if you could do a favor for us and get us in touch with Georgiana Pyke? Maybe?"

"We—Ryan and I—need to talk to our sister, Susie," Spencer explains. "And we figured the best way to try and do that would be through Georgiana, since Susie doesn't have a phone, and there has to be some sort of magic way to contact Georgiana no matter where she is, right?"

"Could you maybe send her an owl for us?" Brendon pipes up, and really, it's a good thing at least one of them actually bothered to read the _Harry Potter_ books.

"Send her an owl? Sure, I guess. You realize I don't really know Georgie much of at all, right...?" Naia says a bit distractedly as she moves to her desk and starts searching through it. "Do you want to write it, or shall I?" she asks, glancing back at them, then stops and frowns. Her eyes travel over the collected visitors, lips moving silently like she's counting heads. "Wait just a tick—where's Ryan?"

"Um. In the car," Brendon says, eyes darting away and not meeting Naia's when she looks in his direction. "He's feeling a bit under the weather. You know how it is, delicate alien physiology and all."

"What, _she_ knows about the alien thing too?" Zack asks, appalled. "I thought you were trying to keep it a secret."

"Well, it's not like we couldn't not tell Naia," Brent says, rolling his eyes. "Seeing as how she showed up in the Doctor's spaceship-slash-time machine and all."

Brendon ends up having to explain to Zack about Rupert and Naia and Ruth Ann and Cody and saving the world back in December from evil alien mind control. He ropes Naia into backing him up on things, even gets her to cast a spell or two ("I'm only doing this because it's this lot—I could get in _so_ much trouble with the Ministry for showing Muggles magic," she tells Zack as she changes a table into a tortoise and back again), and quite effectively distracts her enough so that she doesn't think to ask any more about Ryan. By the time they've completed their explanation and convinced Zack of the existence of magic, Spencer has his letter finished, folded, sealed, and addressed to Susan Smith, c/o Georgiana Pyke.

Naia goes into the other room and returns with an owl—which is pretty fucking awesome, Brendon and Jon and Zack all agree—hands the letter to the owl and carefully instructs it to deliver it to Georgie Pyke. "Or, if you really can't find her, I suppose you could try leaving it with Rupert. He might have a better idea of where she is," Naia tells the bird, who gives her finger an affectionate nip before taking off and flying out the window and into the great blue beyond.

\---

Susie is constantly on the move now, traveling as she does with a purveyor of rare books, so communication between Susie and the her family is difficult. However, every few weeks a fat envelope will arrive for Brendon at the Smith household, and Mrs. Smith dutifully forwards it on to whatever address Zack's given her most recently. Unlike the brief, cheerful updates that Susie's postcards give, these longer missives are inevitably about how there's this _girl_ and I know she doesn't like boys, but she doesn't even _notice_ me, Brendon, and how the hell did you manage Ryan being oblivious for ages and ages and _ages?_ I don't think I can do it!

Generally Brendon is rather secretive about these letters, refusing to let anyone else read them (except for maybe Jon, who totally sympathizes with Susie, because yeah, he's been there too). He most definitely doesn't let Spencer or Ryan know about them because they would take it completely the wrong way, totally not catch the parallels, and be real bastards to Georgie. Which would be wrong.

The fact that Susie has no fixed address makes it rather hard for Brendon to ever give her much advice in response to her long lists of trials and tribulations. He generally ends up sending her an email full of helpful encouragement and crosses his fingers that Susie will manage to find an internet café sometime before the next time her frustration with Georgie reaches the point that she needs to write another long letter in order to vent.

Still, despite all this, Brendon seriously cannot wait to meet Georgie. He is excited because this is Susie Smith's very first girlfriend! Or will be once Susie wears her down, but Brendon has complete confidence in Susie being able to win Georgie over—she's a Smith, after all. If she can't do it with her wit and charm and amazing repertoire of cuddles (to say nothing of dancer's legs, oh my), she has the Hips. She might not know how to use them properly quite yet, but Brendon is positive that it won't take Susie very long at all to master the ways of the Smith Hips once she truly needs them.

Susie's most recent letter came from somewhere in Russia, where Georgie is busy trying to track down a first edition of something by Dostoyevsky and Susie is having an inordinately good time learning local folk dances, so Brendon's a bit surprised by the alacrity of Susie's response to the letter sent with Naia's owl. He supposes it must have something to do with the fact that the letter was sent via magical means, and Brendon regrets once again the fact that Zack put a strict ban on Naia making any gifts to the band that were magical in nature. Not that Brendon thinks Naia would've been about to give them her owl or anything, but he thinks Ryan would've really liked something like a self-inking quill.

Less than a week after the band's impromptu visit to Naia, they're somewhere in Jersey one morning and waiting for Spencer to wake up enough to take his turn driving. Brendon's curled around Ryan in the back of Black Belinda, singing softly to Ryan's already sizable bump when he's interrupted by the shrill ringing of Ryan's phone. Ryan grumbles sleepily and shifts around, fumbling it out of his pocket and answering it with a muzzy, "H'lo?" Brendon watches him quietly, absentmindedly rubbing Ryan's foot as he eavesdrops on the conversation. It's not that there's no concept of privacy between Brendon and Ryan, more that Brendon doesn't have much of any control over his shields in the early morning, and their minds tend to bleed into each other most of the time anyway.

Humming contentedly to himself, Brendon listens through Ryan's ears as Susie explains that she would've called sooner, only she had to first convince Georgie that yes, she'd spent a few days thinking on it and going over all the pros and cons of both saying yes and saying no before Georgie would agree to give her a lift back to the States. Ryan makes noises of approval at this, clearly pleased that someone's looking out for Susie and keeping her from rushing straight off to participate in this mad identity-swapping scheme, never mind that said scheme is to benefit Ryan.

Yawning, Brendon reaches out and gives Spencer a mental poke, telling him to get his butt over here and get take the phone from Ryan so that he and Susie can work things out and arrange a rendezvous. Even if it weren't for the fact that Ryan's sense of direction is a bit chancy at times, he's useless for giving any kind of directions right now, considering the fact that he hasn't left the back of the car for nearly two weeks now.

Spencer and Susie work something out and they head out. Georgie's apparently with Susie, and loath as he is to leave Ryan to Zack's tender mercies, Brendon acknowledges the need to soothe Spencer's paranoia by sending the psychic to meet the unknown element of Georgiana Pyke. Spencer would probably insist on being the one to meet the girls, except it's his turn to drive, and they decided a long time ago that the only acceptable excuses for getting out of driving duty are sickness and injury (and, well, being Brendon, since he's flat out banned from driving Black Belinda).

Eventually, the hearse pulls up alongside where Susie and a blonde woman are standing, stopping just long enough for Brendon to tumble out before Spencer peels off again, looking for a parking spot. Brendon's immediately grabbing Susie and pulling her close in a hug-twirl-jump-of-glee, both of them squealing delightedly, because honestly, they haven't seen each other in over a _year_ and Susie Smith is totally Brendon's favorite little sister _ever_.

Finally, sensing that the Georgie's feeling more than a little left out, Brendon lets go of Susie and leaves off squealing in order to turn and give Georgie a brilliant grin. "Hi," he says brightly, and he's about to hug her as well—Susie's first (almost) girlfriend!—but there are near-tangible _ew boy don't come near me, don't touch me_ vibes coming off of her, so instead Brendon limits himself to just proffering his hand to her. "You must be Georgie. I'm Brendon—Spencer's just finding a good place to park the car."

"I kind of figured you had to be," Georgie says dryly. Brendon has to fight to keep himself from wincing at the soft, snappish surface thoughts he's picking up from her. Thoughts that make it very clear that Georgie's heard plenty about Brendon from Susie and has never expected to like him very much of at all. Apparently, he's so far managed to prove her correct.

If Brendon let the thoughts of everyone he meets effect his first impression of them, he'd have a lot fewer friends. Rather than let Georgie sway his opinion of her, he just tilts his head to the side for a moment before then smiling and picking up one of Susie's bags. "Come on," he says, "Spencer's finally found a place to park. Let's take you to meet the rest of the band and Zack."

\---

The big news on the web at the moment is, of course, the surprising fact that Ryan Smith, noted lyricist and guitarist for The Storybook Hour, is not, in fact, dating his band's lead singer as has long been rumored among the band's fans. Many of the girls who follow the band's movements with nigh-on religious fervor are shocked speechless by the photographs and footage of Smith out and about with a curvy blonde on his arm. Apparently, news of his youngest sister's unfortunate circumstances (only eighteen and pregnant out of wedlock; the Smith family _still_ isn't sure how _that_ particular bit of private news got out) have led him to wanting to settle down, finally.

Normally, the particularly vociferous fans would have demanded at one of TSH's concerts that Ryan explain, "How could you break poor Bden's heart like this!" but as it happens, the band is currently on hiatus, busy working on a new album, or so the rumors claim. Most of the rumors seem to originate from Pete Wentz, which both lends them an air of credibility and also leads many to be skeptical of their veracity. Ryan refuses to say anything when asked about it during interviews. He just smiles and stays characteristically silent while letting Spencer, his bandmate and brother, field all questions for him.

Spencer, however, doesn't have much to say to the interviewers on the subject either. "She's just a good friend of ours," Jon says, smiling at one young woman. "She and Ryan like to talk about things they read in esoteric books." Ryan smirks to himself and mutters something that sounds like " _Kama Sutra_." Next to him, Brendon doubles over, laughing so hard he can barely breathe, and the interviewer finally just gives up. A few days later, no one's interested in the blonde hanging on Ryan's arm all the time, though, because an even bigger bombshell has dropped.

"Dude," Pete says, having somehow managed to corner Brendon a bit away from the rest of his band at some party Pete's having. "Dude, what's this about Susie Smith carrying your love child?" Pete pulls a Very Serious Face, the one he uses when he feels he must be Wise and Adult with them, never mind that the guys of The Storybook Hour are hardly kids anymore. "Seriously, Brendon—how could you break Ryan's heart like that? You two have been pretty much all over each other for as long as I've known you."

Brendon laughs, immediately following it up with a, "Fuck off, no, seriously, I mean it, Pete."

"It's not like you can pretend it isn't true, little Urie," Gabe says, leaning in with a leer. "That clip of you and her coming out of that clinic together has to be the most watched thing on YouTube this week."

Sighing, Brendon rubs his forehead. "Look, Ryan and Spencer would've taken her, but they had some stupid thing they needed to take care of, so she asked me. That doesn't automatically make the kid mine."

Gabe and Pete share a look, then start crooning, "Brendon and Su-sie sittin' in a tree—" Brendon doesn't wait to hear the rest, just pushes past them and finds Spencer, whom he sends in their direction. Spencer will put a stop to this, Brendon is sure. Spencer is amazing.

Apparently even the amazing damage control talents of Spencer Smith aren't enough to completely quell this most recent rumor, however, because the next time they have an interview, the first thing Brendon's asked is about his relationship with one Susan Smith. Brendon smiles sweetly at the nervous little journalist and launches into a long and complicated simile that's actually just about how he used to accompany Susie on piano when back when she was still a vampire-hunting fairy-princess ballerina. "Susie Smith is hardcore," Brendon concludes with absolute solemnity. "You don't even want to try messing with her. She kicks like a kicky thing when she's angry."

After the interview, Brendon goes back to the car, finds Ryan lying on his back on the couch, using his sonic thingy to fiddle with something or another, and pokes him in the side with a toe. "Hi," Brendon says. "Thanks to you and your bright ideas about consulting a 'trained medical specialist,' half the world thinks I'm sleeping with your sister."

Ryan blinks slowly and frowns up at Brendon. "Only half?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone else thinks I'm having an incestuous threesome with both of you," Brendon says with a shrug, sitting down next to Ryan's head and combing his fingers through Ryan's hair. "Don't tell Spencer? Brent says he beats up people who try and date you guys' sisters."

Ryan squawks and twists around, trying to see Brendon's face. "I– Me? With Susie? Ew, _gross_ ," he says, pulling a face. "Though. It wouldn't technically be incest. Exactly. Since I'm not related to her by blood. But still, no. Not happening."

"I never said it was _true_ ," Brendon huffs, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to Ryan's lips. "People just like to ask really stupid questions sometimes is all. I mean, like I'd share you with anyone."

Ryan smiles at him and reaches up, wrapping his arms around Brendon's neck and tugging him down further. "Mine," he says in a pleased tone, nuzzling Brendon happily.

"Take it to your room," Brent says as he passes by, toweling his hair dry. "None of us want to see that."

"Yes, please, not here," Georgie says from where she's curled up in an armchair. She glances up over the top of her book and wrinkles her nose at them. "That includes you too, Brent Wilson—put on a shirt, I don't want to see bare boy chest. It's sickening." Georgie looks ready to add something more, but then Ryan Smith drops into her lap and pecks her on the cheek.

"Hey, gorgeous. Did you know you've a rival for attention? I did a Google search earlier, and I came up with at least a half a dozen new Brendon/Susie fanfics, and only one Ryan/Mysterious Blonde Chick. I think the fans don't like that they don't know your name."

Georgie glowers and pushes "Ryan" away. "Don't _do_ that! Ew, now I have boy cooties," she grumbles, scrubbing at her cheek with her hand.

"Oh come on," Susie pouts, the expression looking decidedly odd with Ryan's features, "it isn't as if I'm _really_ a boy."

"I don't care, you look like one, you feel like one, no boy kisses," Georgie says firmly. "Get Ryan to change you back if you're going to insist on climbing on me."

"Ryan climbs on you all the time and he's a real boy," Susie protests as she untangles herself from Georgie.

"Ryan is a special case," Georgie sniffs as she turns her attention back to her book.

Flouncing across the room, Susie pokes Ryan until he unwraps himself from Brendon long enough to switch off the device that disguises her as him. She always makes him be the one to turn it off. The one time she tried to do it, something went horribly wrong and she ended up somewhere halfway between Ryan and herself for nearly forty-eight hours. She found it rather traumatizing. "I swear, if you steal my girlfriend from me, Ryan, I will never forgive you," Susie sniffs.

"No worries, you can keep her," Ryan says once he's disabled the device and begun to burrow back into Brendon as much as he's able (which isn't nearly as much these days—Brendon thinks it's rather amazing how large Ryan's belly has grown). "I'm more than happy with what I have."

\---

Brendon is a cuddle FIEND. "You cannot possibly deny me cuddles, Georgiana," he announces as he bounds into the room one day. "For I am small and cute and you know you want to cuddle me! Also, you currently have my boyfriend and I would very much like him back, please."

"Your boyfriend is grumpy and hates the world. We're connecting, go away," Georgie tells him in a brusque manner.

In her lap, Ryan perks up and uncurls a little. "Brendon's back?" he asks hopefully. Zack says that in many ways, Ryan is like a puppy, and that one of those ways is that even though Ryan gets mighty pissed at Brendon sometimes, he still absolutely adores him. Point in fact: his face lights up like a Christmas tree as soon as his sleepy eyes alight on Brendon. Ryan makes grabby hands, catches Brendon's T-shirt and tugs him closer, burying his face against Brendon's stomach. Mmm, Brendonsmell.

Georgie scowls at them both. "This is not an enjoyable male to female ratio for me."

Ryan wibbles—he likes cuddling with Georgie because she actually _knows_ the books he talks about and gets them, even some of the really obscure ones. "But it's _Brendon_." He cannot understand why anyone would _not_ want Brendoncuddles.

Though she sighs and rolls her eyes, Georgie scoots over just enough so that Brendon can sit down on the couch as well. Ryan beams at her and she glares, though it quickly softens into a small smile, and she pats him on the head. "Why is it," she wonders allowed, "that I just cannot say no to you, Ryan Smith?"

Ryan has no idea why this is, and he says as much. Beside him, however, Brendon looks up and smiles at Georgie, one of his soft, warm smiles that is definitely Ryan's very favorite kind of Brendon smile. "You can't help it. No one can, really. It is partly because he has very large eyes and is fucking adorable, and partly because of his naiveté, which is also very endearing. Stronger souls than you have fallen to its charm."

Georgie laughs. "You have to say that," she insists. "You're dating him."

"Yeah, well. That doesn't make it any less true," Brendon insists, and in his lap Ryan turns and beams up at him.

"You just described why I love you," Ryan tells him, reaching for Brendon's hand and stroking the back of it.

Brendon laughs and arches an eyebrow. "You love me for my big eyes and endearing naiveté?" he jokes.

"Well, that and you're fucking adorable," Ryan agrees. "But mostly, I just can't help it."

\---

If anything, Jon supposes he should be surprised that it's taken as long as it has for the subject of baby things to come up. Still, he finds it more than a little unexpected when Spencer marches into the dining room one morning with a paper clenched in his hand and a determined gleam in his eyes. "Today, Jon Walker, you and I are going _shopping_ ," he announces to the room at large.

Susie makes a happy noise and bounces in her seat excitedly. Shopping with Spencer frequently spells fun times for Susie, particularly when Brendon comes along with them. Spencer glances at her and frowns. "Is your name Jon? No, I didn't think so."

"But, _Spencer_ ," Susie whinges, Brendon chiming in right along with her, but Spencer cannot be moved.

"No. Just me and Jon today. Ryan fiddled with Belinda's pocketspace yesterday, and now there's finally a room for a nursery, so Jon and I are buying baby things. You two," Spencer says, glaring at Susie and Brendon, "cannot be trusted to behave in a properly responsible manner."

"This is most unfair, Spencer Smith," Brendon pouts. "It's my kid, I should get some say in this."

Spencer fixes him with a look. "It's Ryan's kid first and foremost. He's not feeling up to wandering about for hours at a time looking at stuff today, and it needs to be done as soon as possible, so he asked me to do it. If you want to complain about it, take it up with him."

"I. Ryan's not feeling well?" Brendon frets, distracted from pouting by more important information. "I thought he just—" He breaks off, biting his lip. Jon tries hard not to snort into his coffee cup—he thinks it's kind of really adorable whenever Brendon and Ryan start having psychic brain conversations with each other, though he knows it freaks out people who don't understand what's going on. "Excuse me," Brendon says distractedly as he grabs a spoon and a jar of pickle off the table and hurries from the room.

Clearly his throat, Jon glances at Spencer. "How'd you get Ryan to agree to let you have sole say over nursery decoration?" he asks, glancing at the paper in Spencer's hand curiously.

"He gave me a list of things that he wants, and we agreed on a theme ahead of time," Spencer says firmly. "Also, he's in one of his pickle moods." Which means he's feeling anxious and uncomfortable and pretty much willing to agree to anything Spencer tells him.

Jon narrows his eyes and Spencer at least has the grace to look a little guilty. It's no secret that Jon doesn't approve of Spencer taking advantage of Ryan's unusually passive behaviour whenever he's in one of his pickle moods. "What kind of theme?" Jon asks.

"Um. Ducks? Yellow ducks and cornflower blue," Spencer says tentatively. "He likes the way the word sounds, and the colors are nice and gender neutral." Which is just as well, as Ryan has so far refused to let Brent give anyone any clues as to the baby's sex. Supposedly this is because he wants it to be a surprise, Jon thinks it's just Ryan being Ryan.

"Good color choices," Jon says with a nod, and Spencer smiles his special, brilliant, Spencer smile at him, the one that Jon kind of really fell in love with back when he first met Spencer.

Brent rolls his eyes. "Stop with the sap already," he snaps. "We get enough of that with Ryan and Brendon."

"Don't listen to him, Spence," Jon says, eyes twinkling mischievously. "He's just jealous."

"How does it feel to be the only single one here, oh great lady's man?" Spencer asks Brent sweetly.

Brent makes a face. Jon snickers to himself, because he knows Brent's probably thinking about how it isn't _his_ fault that the Smith brothers are over-protective of their sisters. Or that Martha Jones, Brent's self-proclaimed one true love, lives on the other side of the Atlantic. (Never mind that Martha is four years older than him, has a boyfriend, and Brent's never met her face-to-face—they e-mail each other regularly and talk about freaky alien stuff and life in general and he feels they've really clicked. Everything else? Highly irrelevant and unimportant, according to Brent.) Brent glares at Susie. "How come Grumpy Bear here lets Georgie have her wicked way with you while I can't even call Stacey without a chaperone?" he grumbles. Jon feels this is unfair on Brent's part, as barely a week's passed since Susie came in at breakfast in a disgustingly cheerful mood, rewarded Brendon with a smacking kiss on the cheek, and declared herself to be finally off the market.

"Because Georgie has a real, adult job," Susie says with more than a little pride. "Also, Ryan told him to leave off already." Personally, Jon thinks that if Stacey Smith was honestly as interested in Brent as Brent always claims she is, Spencer should have a much harder time preventing the two of them from doing anything. Not that Jon ever tells Brent any of this—Brent's a big boy, Jon feels that if he can't figure it out on his own, he doesn't deserve to know.

"Come on, Wilson," Zack says, hand landing on Brent's shoulder, "we can hold a meeting of the Single Person Support Group in the lounge."

"Halo marathon?" Brent asks hopefully.

"If you want."

" _Score_." Brent fist-pumps the air and eagerly follows Zack out of the room.

Once Zack and Brent have left, Susie snickers softly to herself. "D'you know you guys have fans who slash those two?" she asks, nodding towards the door.

Spencer frowns at his sister. "What have I told you about Googling yourself and people you know?" he admonishes in a stern tone. Behind him, Jon flashes a thumbs-up at Susie and grins. Jon kind of hopes Spencer doesn't start asking Susie exactly what she's been finding and reading online. He knows for a fact that the majority of the Zack/Brent slashfic out there is written by Brendon and posted with an outrageously named sockpuppet account. Which is something Jon only knows about because Brendon used to guilt him into beta reading the stuff before Susie showed up.

Jon clears his throat and leans in, hugging Spencer from behind and hooking his chin over Spencer's shoulder. "So, when did you want to do this shopping thing?" he asks, and Spencer smiles again and forgets all about the dangers of allowing Susie an internet connection.

Even though they have a list to go by, shopping for baby things turns out to be a lot more work than Jon anticipated. This is partly because Spencer turns out to be very finicky when it comes to materials and construction and the like ("Solid, real-wood furniture only. No chipboard, no synthetic fabrics, all seams must actually be finished, and I don't care how often Brendon texts you, absolutely _nothing_ featuring lavender unicorns," Spencer says before they even set foot inside a store), and also partly because they've received conflicting advice from their respective mothers ("My mom said cradles are no good—she used a crib with me and my sisters," Spencer says stubbornly, and Jon's face falls. "But cribs are so constricting, Spence! D'you want your niece or nephew to feel like they're some kind of caged animal?"). Most of the trouble, however, comes from the fact that they're two guys shopping for a whole slew of nursery and baby things on their own, with no female accompaniment. Some salespeople give them obvious looks of disapproval, others gush on and on about how _fabulous_ it is that today's society is so accepting of "alternative lifestyle" couples. It's clear to Jon that both responses irk and annoy Spencer. He knows that Spencer has a deep and unrelenting hatred for people who assume things, even when those things are (mostly) correct.

"I'm just getting things for my sister's baby," Spencer snaps when one particularly intrusive saleswoman pushes him too far. "We're _not_ adopting a kid together; we're just coworkers."

Jon can't help but wince at this. He knows that Spencer's just annoyed with being treated like a novelty, that he doesn't mean it like _that_ , but at the same time, there's no reason for Spencer to deny the fact that Jon's his boyfriend, since it isn't as if they've ever particularly gone out of their way to keep their relationship a secret or anything. They've been together for a little over five years now, there's no way this is something casual, but still Spencer thinks nothing of repudiating it. And that hurts.

Going from store to store, looking, picking, choosing, comparison shopping and niggling over little details in regards to design, quality, construction, and price, Jon has more than enough time to mull over why it is that Spencer's easy denial of what they are to one another upsets him so.

"Hey," Spencer says while they wait in line outside the taco place they've ended up at for lunch, "something wrong? You've been awfully quiet today."

Jon knows he's worrying over stupid, pointless things, so he just shrugs and shakes his head. "Nothing."

Spencer frowns. "It's not nothing. You don't get all sulky and silent over 'nothing,' Jon. Seriously, what's up?"

"It's." Jon sighs, rakes a hand through his hair, and tries again. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"What?" Spencer asks with a laugh, though he quickly sobers up when he sees that Jon is serious. "Of course I'm not ashamed of you. _God_ , Jon. Where's this coming from?"

"You told that woman at that one store that we're 'just coworkers,'" Jon says.

Spencer rolls his eyes. "You know I didn't mean it like that. She as just being so damned condescending and presumptuous."

"But _coworkers_ , Spencer? I don't even rate 'friends'?"

Jon's glad to see that Spencer at least has the grace to look mildly guilty and chagrined at this. "'Friends' has pretty much become a euphemism for 'boyfriends,' these days," Spencer says defensively. "I couldn't very well let her think she was right."

"Right. God forbid you actually let anyone know we're dating," Jon says peevishly. "After all, it's such a _big_ secret. Oh no, wait—that's not us, that's Ryan and Brendon. Because pretty much everyone who's ever heard of us or the band also knows in a vague, unofficial manner that we're dating. I mean, what the fuck, Spencer?"

Needless to say, the day is pretty much ruined after that, at least as far as shopping goes. Spencer is all huffy after lunch, insisting that Jon's blowing this thing out of proportion, while Jon turns stubborn and sulky because he _hates_ that Spencer always does this, hates that Spencer acts like what they have isn't as serious as it is.

Jon knows Spencer's behaviour is just a coping mechanism, he _knows_ that. He realizes that it's something Spencer has to do, because he doesn't like being dependent on other people, he prefers for other people to be dependent on him, but it still hurts. And sometimes Jon wonders why the hell he's so determined to stick with Spencer when _every time_ Jon tries to take their relationship to the next step, Spencer automatically pushes him away.

"You can't sulk for the rest of the day, Jon," Spencer insists, rolling his eyes. "We're supposed to be getting this done so that R– Susie doesn't have too. Stop being a such a big baby."

It's the last straw for Jon, Spencer making all this out to be _Jon's_ problem, _Jon's_ fault because Spencer is too fucking childish and insecure to admit that he needs Jon just as much as Jon needs him. Jon lets out a growl of frustration. "Fuck this shit. Let 'Susie' order what she needs online like the rest of the world. I'm going home," he snaps before rounding and stomping out of the store. He takes a cab back to where the hearse is parked, wanting to get away from Spencer as quickly as possible. More than anything, Jon wants to barricade himself in the practice room for the next few hours and take out his frustration with Spencer by tiring himself out playing too-emo songs. So of course when he clambers through Belinda's doors, he's nearly bowled over by a hyperactive Cash Colligan.

"Jon Walker, save me! Smith is trying to set me on fire with his brain again!" Cash wails, clinging to Jon.

Jon sighs. He really doesn't need to deal with The Cab and their weird, obsessive, fanboy tendencies right now. "Ryan can't set you on fire with his brain, Cash. He doesn't have pyrokinesis," Jon says tiredly, glancing around the room for an Alex to scrape Cash off onto.

"Are you sure? What about Brendon? Maybe it's Brendon who's trying to set me on fire. You have to _save_ me, Jon!" Cash insists, refusing to let go, no matter how hard Jon tries to pry his fingers free. He really doesn't want Cash to stay attached—for one thing, it's damned hard to play angry, emo songs when you have a Cabbaby attached to you, and for another, it's _never_ safe to be around Cash when Brendon's angry at him as well as Ryan.

"You intruded on their RyanandBrendon time, didn't you," Jon says. He wonders if a well-aimed kick will rid him of Cash or not. "Dude, not even _Spencer_ intrudes on RyanandBrendon time unless it's an absolute emergency. If they really want to set you on fire, not even I can save you."

Cash gives Jon puppy eyes, but Jon is completely immune to all puppy eyes ever after living with Brendon for as long as he has, so this is a useless gesture on Cash's part. "This is not cool, Jon," Cash mopes. "I was led to believe that your awesome could provide safety against all kinds of psychic brain-rage, but now I find you are a wimp. Totally Not Cool."

Normally, Jon is an easy-going guy and he'd at least try to smooth Ryan and Brendon's ruffled feathers, because knowing Cash, he didn't really mean to walk in on RyanandBrendon time. Today, though, Jon really doesn't have the patience to deal with Cabbabies. At all. "Colligan. You have ten seconds to get off me before I start breaking your fingers and your band has to look for a new bass player," he grinds out, then starts counting backwards. For once Jon is grateful that The Cab started out by fanboying them back when they were still Panic!, so all its members have a healthy respect for Jon's band's ability to cause grievous bodily harm without blinking an eye. Cash has let go and is across the room, cowering behind one of the Alexes, before Jon reaches six.

"Johnson, Johnson, save me from Walker's scary PMS-ing," Cash says, tugging on the Alex's shirt and looking up with pleading puppy eyes. Jon feels somewhat gratified by the fact that the Alex ignores Cash completely, and stomps off to the practice room. Time for some quality angry emo sulking off where no one (i.e., Brent and Cash) can hear him and poke fun at him.

He's slammed the door to the practice room behind himself and is more than halfway across the room when he realizes he has an audience. One that consists of a rather wide-eyed Brendon, another Alex hiding behind him. At least, Jon thinks it's an Alex—he's found that they're kind of like ants, in that if you have one, you have a whole slew of them. Plus, they seem to be insidious and innumerable; personally, Jon suspects that the multiply when your back's turned, dividing like amoebas. The Alexes kind of freak Jon out. "What?" Jon snaps, glaring at them both. Stupid Brendon with his stupid perfect relationship that never has any problems because Brendon went and managed to snag the Smith brother who _doesn't_ have commitment problems.

"...you're having problems with Spencer?" the Alex squeaks, staring at Jon. "But. You two never have problems! You're nearly as bad as RyanandBrendon!"

"Alex," Brendon sighs, "shut up and work on your shields."

Jon blinks and glances between them both, anger momentarily forgotten. "Wait. The Alexes are psychic?" Oh lord, this can only spell disaster for the world at large. Hopefully, Cash won't find out. A thought occurs to him, and Jon spares a moment to additionally hope as sincerely as possible that Cash isn't a secret alien. Jon's noticed that they tend to pop up in bands that have psychics, so it's a completely a valid concern on his part.

"Not all of them, just this one," Brendon says with a shrug. "He managed to pick up Ryan's current, ah, condition from my head, so I'm busy explaining things to him. And teaching him how to shield, since apparently no one's ever taken the time to explain to him that he's slightly-psychic."

"Yeah, well. Go be all mentor-like somewhere else," Jon grumbles. "I want to practice."

"But this is the best soundproofing! We can't have any of rest of The Cab learning about—"

"Good lord, Smith," comes the cry through the not-quite closed door, and Jon winces as he recognizes Cash's voice, "you're fucking _huge!_ "

Brendon's out the door and halfway down the hall before Jon's even managed to process the situation. Still, he'd probably be following Brendon, an automatic reaction that no doubt has something to do with fact that Spencer has all of the guys trained to protect Ryan from the rest of the world, but then Jon hears Susie snap back in a decidedly unSusie-like manner, "Shut the fuck up before I sic Spencer on you and your baby band never finds your body," and Jon relaxes. If Ryan's got his Susie-suit (or whatever it is) on, there's nothing to worry about. Jon's reaching for his bass when there's a cough from behind him.

"So, uh, I'm guessing Susie Smith isn't really pregnant," the Alex says and shit, Jon'd completely forgotten the other guy was there.

Jon has no idea how much Brendon's told the kid, but after six years of living with Brendon, Jon's learned a thing or two about the slightly-psychic. Namely that it's nigh impossible to keep anything from them when their control's all whack. "They've switched places," Jon says, trying to ignore the Alex. After a minute's hesitation, Jon grabs his guitar instead of his bass, pulling the strap on over his head and letting the familiar weight of the instrument settle against his chest. "Just until the baby's born."

"Right, right. Makes sense." The kid fidgets, nervously plinking out snatches of melody on Brendon's keyboard before blurting out, "Spencer, he really cares about you. A lot."

"I know he does." Jon doesn't mean to snap, just. He does.

"Sorry. Er. It's. I don't mean to, y'know, intrude or anything. I'm just not used to this yet, really. The mind-reading thing."

Kid acts like it's something new, and yeah right, sure. Like Jon's going to believe that. Jon knows a thing or two about psys, and not just from hanging around Brendon. It's kind of hard to not learn anything when you're the one keeping track of the various aliens and other odd phenomena that his band has encountered over the years. He knows that psychic talent is something you're born with (in humans, at least; Jon has the vague impression that it works differently for other species, sometimes), that it's generally there and on since birth, though it sometimes doesn't really show until puberty. They may call The Cab babies, but Jon knows they aren't really _that_ young. "Just because you've been found out only now doesn't mean you have to pretend like you didn't know about it before," Jon says with a roll of his eyes, because it's easier to talk about this than to talk about whatever the fuck is going on between him and Spencer.

"But, I didn't," the Alex insists, all wide-eyed and surprised. Jon knows the age difference between them isn't really that much, but sometimes The Cab make him feel so damned _old_.

"Look," he says, fingers stilling on strings, and Jon hadn't even realized he was playing until he stopped, "remind me which one you are again? Otherwise I'll end up calling you piano!Alex, neither of us wants that." Jon's normally a lot better at remembering names, the Alexes just throw him for a loop. As it was, Panic! had been hanging out with The Cab off and on for nearly three months before Jon realized they weren't all named Alex. And that was back when Brendon and Cash'd had a thing.

"Marshall," the Alex says, and yeah, okay, Jon knew that, actually. He thinks. Marshall, a.k.a. piano!Alex, is the shy one, if Jon remembers correctly. Which kind of makes sense, if he's psychic, in the way that it doesn't make sense at all, because Brendon's psychic too and he _never_ acts shy. "Right, the shy one," is what Jon says aloud, ignoring the face the Alex makes. "Anyway. Marshall. I know about psys, okay? And there's no way in hell you could've gone twenty years without knowing you're slightly-psychic."

"Twenty-three."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm twenty-three," Marshall mutters sullenly. "And Brendon said it's because I'm not really that strong. I mostly get, y'know, emotions and vague impressions. I always figured I just had really good intuition or something."

Jon frowns and considers this. He knows for a fact that Panic! never even considered that Brendon might be psychic until Bob told them when they were sixteen or something, but still. How is it that they've never picked up on Marshall's psychicness before? Normally Brendon senses stuff like that right away and they've known The Cab for years.

"Brendon said it might have something to do with the fact that he and Ryan were just— wait, Bob's psychic too? As in Bob Bryar of My Chemical Romance?" Marshall's jaw drops and his eyes eyes literally bug out. He looks incredibly stupid, and Jon thinks it's slightly unfair that the kid's more awed by Bob being psychic than by Ryan being pregnant.

Jon shrugs. "Yeah, but you can't say anything about it. I think his band might still not know. What did Brendon say?" Jon hopes to god that Brendon hasn't decided that his and Ryan having sex awakens latent psychic talents. In that direction lies madness.

"Oh, he and Ryan were psychically communicating with the baby and he thinks it that might've influenced me or something. Poked it awake in my head. What's going on with Spencer?"

"Nothing. None of your business. Fuck off," Jon growls, turning away and curling in around his guitar. Stupid Spencer and his stupid issues with commitment and trust and control and, just, acting human. Stupid Spencer being so fucking wonderful that Jon can never tell him no, can never find it in himself to put his foot down and demand that Spencer act like an adult about this. Well, no more, Jon decides as his fingers move across the strings. He's not going to put up with it any longer. When Spencer gets back, it's going to be time to issue the ultimatum.

\---

Though Marshall keeps bringing up the subject of Spencer, Jon really isn't expecting Marshall to march up and punch Spencer out as soon as Spencer steps through the hearse's back doors. "If you're going to act like such an idiot, Smith, you don't deserve a great guy like Jon," Marshall says, face flushed with anger or embarrassment or both. "Anyway, since you aren't going to appreciate him properly, I'll just be taking—"

He never manages to finish, because while the rest of the room is frozen in shock and staring at them with looks of fascinated horror, Spencer makes an angry noise in the back of his throat and springs at Marshall, tackling him down and slamming him against the floor. "Like hell you will, kid. Jon's _mine_ ," he growls, clearly intent on returning Marshall's punch and maybe following it up with three or four more.

"Fuck, Spencer! Stop acting like a fucking child," Jon snaps, hauling Spencer off of Marshall and dragging him to their bedroom. Jon's still pissed about what happened earlier, and his temper hasn't really been improved by Spencer attacking Marshall. (Though a part of Jon was silently cheering Spencer on, since even though he kind of just bonded with Marshall, there was no call for the kid to go and _punch_ Spencer like that.)

In their room, Jon shoves Spencer at the bed, telling him to sit. "I'm really sorry about upsetting you earlier," Spencer says as soon as Jon's sat down beside him. "Forgive me?" Spencer smiles at him and reaches out to pulling him closer.

Jon gently but firmly pushes him away. "Do you know _why_ you upset me, or are you just apologizing because you know you did something wrong?" Jon demands, glaring when Spencer gets all shifty and mumbly in response.

"I just know that I'm kind of hopelessly in love with you," Spencer says a little desperately. "And that I hate it when things aren't right between us."

"Spencer Smith, what am I going to do with you?" Jon sighs.

"How about you just accept my apology at face value and we skip straight to the make-up sex?" Spencer suggests with smirk, clearly expecting Jon to agree. Jon supposes he shouldn't be surprised—Spencer's just described the way that nearly ninety percent of all their arguments end up being resolved.

Shaking his head, Jon turns so that his back is to Spencer. "No," he says softly. "Not until you realize what you did wrong."

There's a long silence, and Jon thinks that maybe Spencer's left, maybe he isn't going to even try to make this right again. But then, finally— _finally_ —Spencer mumbles, "Sorry I didn't publicly acknowledge our relationship."

"That wasn't ever the problem, Spence," Jon says sadly. Sadly because Jon loves Spencer with all his heart and he doesn't _want_ to break up with him, but he's starting to think he'll have to, if Spencer can't figure this one out on his own.

"But you were all pissed about my telling the saleswoman that we weren't dating! That's why you're upset, wasn't it?" Spencer asks, and Jon can hear the confusion in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Spencer," Jon says, climbing out of bed and slipping his shoes on. "I tried, I really did, but if you can't see what you did wrong today, then I'm sorry, but I can't be with you."

"But I _love_ you! I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I was going to ask you to marry me!" Spencer practically wails.

Oh. Surprised and slightly awed, Jon stops and glances back. "But. You've always said that marriage is kitschy and cliché, weighed down by centuries worth of gender and sexuality stereotyping. You don't believe in marriage."

"I don't," Spencer says softly, staring down at his hands in his lap, "but you do. And I think I could tolerate all the history that goes with the institution if it meant being married to you."

"Oh, Spencer," Jon says with a sigh, and he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Spencer's forehead. "I love you, I honestly do, but you're not ready to ask that question of anyone yet."

Spencer makes a frustrated noise, and Jon knows that he hates it, hates that he can't figure this out. Spencer's so used to having answers for everything, so used to knowing exactly what to do. It must be horrible to feel so helpless. Jon is about to step away when something changes on Spencer's face, and his hand shoots out to grab onto Jon's shirt. "Sorry I put my pride first before both of us," Spencer says slowly, eyes not meeting Jon's, instead focusing straight ahead. "Sorry I denied you because I was too afraid of what other people would think. Sorry I'm so– so stupid and stubborn and childish and _scared_ , so fucking scared of how much I love you, how much I _need_ you."

Finally glancing up, Spencer's voice is small and a little scared. "Please don't go."

Jon sighs and relaxes. He wraps his arms around Spencer's shoulders and rocks him gently, kissing he top of his head. "Don't worry," he murmurs, "I'm not going anywhere."

\---

While there are many things he dislikes about this entire thing, Ryan especially does not enjoy being pregnant in the morning when he's just woken up. Sometimes the baby keeps him up late, kicking and squirming, sometimes he gets random bouts of nausea, sometimes his hormones are just so screwed up that Ryan just has to stumble into the living room of Black Belinda and see Dylan curled up in Ryan's favorite spot on the couch and he'll burst into tears.

After the third time this happens in five days, Zack decides to start a new morning tradition in the hearse. He now waits for Ryan with a mug of decaffeinated tea, tells him good morning and then proceeds to pay him five compliments. Jon and Brent have a bet going on how long it'll take before Zack starts repeating himself. In the three months Zack's been doing it, he has yet to slip up, and Jon and Brent are just sort of astounded. Apparently Zack can think of a lot of good things to say about Ryan.

Brendon is not the least bit surprised. "Of _course_ Zack can think of a lot of good stuff to say about Ryan," Brendon says, rolling his eyes. "I could say ten good things about Ryan every day for the next five years and not repeat myself once. Duh."

"Yeah, but you're biased. And probably half of those things would be X-rated," Brent says. Brendon sometimes gets the feeling that Brent thinks Brendon and Ryan's sex life is a lot more adventurous than it actually is.

Of course, this might just be because Brendon encourages Brent to think such things. "Well, yeah. But not everything that you can do with tentacles has to be X-rated," Brendon says thoughtfully. "I mean, just last week he—"

"Don't want to know," Brent says loudly at the same time that Zack says, "Shut it, B."

"Ew, tentacles," Jon says, making a face.

Spencer rolls his eyes and doesn't even bother to look away from the newspaper he's reading. "Ryan doesn't have tentacles. We took baths together until we were eleven, and there was never any sign of tentacles."

"Who says I was talking about Ryan?" Brendon asks, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah, no. You don't have tentacles either, Urie." This time Spencer glances up, fixing Brendon with a look. "Trust me, I would know if you did."

There's a long moment of silence, and Jon coughs, the tips of his ears turning red, while Brent looks everywhere in the room but Ryan. "What?" Zack asks with a frown, glancing between Spencer and Brendon. "Am I missing something here?"

Brendon shifts a little uncomfortably under Spencer's gaze before finally shuffling over to Ryan and burying his face in Ryan's shoulder. Ryan's still half-asleep and just a tad blubbery, enough out of it that he doesn't pick up on the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room. He automatically wraps an arm around Brendon's waist and presses his face into Brendon's hair. Spencer nods to himself, then glances at Zack. "It's nothing, Zack. Don't worry about it."

Zack frowns, but he doesn't press the issue.

Later, it becomes clear that Ryan wasn't as asleep as he'd seemed. Jon and Brent have dragged Zack and the rest of the band outside for an impromptu game of frisbee, and they're all running about and laughing like maniacs. Well, all of them except for Ryan, who's done up like Susie and sitting under a tree with a journal resting on his stomach and a pen in his hand, paying more attention to the game than to the song he's supposedly working on.

After a half an hour of running about, Brendon jogs up next to Ryan and stops, panting. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm and grins at down at Ryan. "Why, fancy meeting you here, Smith," he says, dropping down next to Ryan and bumping their shoulders together.

"Don't, you'll make me mess up," Ryan admonishes, though he smiles quietly back. Brendon sometimes wonders how anyone can possibly be buying that Ryan is Susie—he doesn't act anything like her, after all. Doesn't _feel_ like her to Brendon, but Brendon supposes he's sort of got insider information here. Honestly, he didn't realize how much he identifies people more by mental touch than by physical features until Ryan and Susie started switching places. Brendon grins even wider at Ryan. He kind of really loves him.

"...Brendon," Ryan voice is quiet and hesitant. "What was that whole thing going on this morning? Between you and Spencer? Are you two fighting?"

Brendon freezes, then begins to silently curse Zack. He leaves off as soon as he notices Ryan wincing—part of the problem with dating a psychic is that it makes it difficult to keep anything to yourself, ever, Brendon thinks. He slams up the mental walls Bob taught him to build, carefully separating his mind from Ryan's. There are things near the surface of his mind right now that he'd rather not let Ryan see. "We're not fighting," Brendon says in a rush. "It's just... a thing. Between me and Spencer. Don't worry about it."

"If it's between you and Spencer there's a chance it could effect the band," Ryan says stubbornly. "I should know about it."

"It's not going to effect the band, it's something old. Seriously, just... don't worry about it," Brendon snaps. Ryan flinches away, and Brendon immediately regrets his words. "It's just... a thing, Ryan," he says a little apologetically, rubbing Ryan's knee reassuringly.

"Jon and Brent know about it," Ryan says, looking over at where the others are still running about. "Why can't—" he stops and drops his gaze to his lap. Even pregnant and hormonal, Ryan has a hard time admitting that something hurts him, upsets him.

"Ryan, it's not like you're being left out of a secret—"

"Then why can't you fucking _tell_ me?" Ryan demands, voice slowly rising in tone and volume.

Gulping, Brendon draws back slightly. It isn't as if he hasn't ever thought about how this conversation might go if it ever happened. When it happened. Because it's not some great dark secret, and Ryan deserves to know, deserves to be told. Brendon maybe just always kind of hoped that Spencer would be the one doing the telling, not him. "The first person I ever had sex with was Spencer," Brendon says in a rush, keeping his eyes focused on his knees. "Um. And I think I was his first too? I'm not sure, you'd probably know better than me." He can't look at Ryan, can't see whatever his face (Susie's face) looks like right now, and Ryan isn't saying anything, isn't making any sound, and Brendon's shields are two-way when they're this strong, so he has no idea how Ryan's taking this, no idea at all.

"...how?" Ryan asks, and it's not upset, it's not strangled, it's not anything. Just. Flat.

"We dated. For about, um. Six, eight months? Something like that, dunno—we never really officially broke up or anything, more just sort of... stopped."

"But. Spencer loves Jon?" Brendon expects Ryan doesn't mean it to come out as a question, because Ryan _knows_ Spencer loves Jon, Spencer says it all the time and his eye starts twitching and he starts looking for things to kill whenever anything or anyone makes Jon upset. Or an alien nearly kills Jon. Or one of the fans is overly friendly with Jon. Or someone just smiles at Jon too much.

"Yeah, well. It was back in high school, and it's not like Spencer knew Jon yet," Brendon says, keeping his eyes on his hands as he picks at a non-existent piece of lint on his jeans. "So it's not like he could love him back then."

"But he didn't ever say anything!" Ryan frets, clearly upset by this, which Brendon understands, really. Spencer has always shared everything with Ryan, just like Ryan's always shared everything with Spencer, ever since they were five and Spencer had rather sanctimoniously allowed Ryan to use his toy piano.

"It was. I think he figured it'd upset you? Since you were trying so hard not to see it, even though everyone else knew," Brendon says softly, curling up and tucking his feet in under himself.

"Why didn't." Ryan stops. Gulps. Tries again, voice soft, quiet. "...do you love him?"

"What? God no! Well, I mean, yeah, I do, but like how I love Jon and Brent—he's my best friend and my bandmate, of course I love him. But not like you, Ryan, not like how I love you, am in love with you," Brendon says softly, wrapping his arms around Ryan, hugging him tightly. "It was back during junior year," and part of senior year, but Ryan doesn't need to know that... And that's just the kind of thinking that got Brendon in trouble this time. "And some of senior year, too. It was a years and years ago, Ryan."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" Ryan asks, and Brendon feels horrible, horrible and awful and most of all _guilty_ , because he should have told Ryan this ages ago, before he was all hormonal and pregnant and—

"Sorry, sorry, should have, just. Didn't know how back then, when you were trying so hard not see what was going on. And then later, it just didn't seem important, because it was so long ago, and then Jon showed up, and... it just wasn't important. It wasn't _you_." And Brendon's attention was pretty much totally consumed by Ryan back then. Just like now. It was—is—kind of pathetic. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm kind of pathetic when it comes to you," he mumbles, nudging against Ryan's cheek with is nose and kissing it softly.

Ryan blinks and turns slightly, mouth nearly brushing Brendon's as he does so. "Brendon..." he starts, but he doesn't get any further.

"Urie! Get your paws of my sister! One YouTube video is more than enough!" Spencer hollers, tossing the frisbee to Jon before changing course and jogging over to where Brendon and Ryan are sitting on the grass. Brendon blinks, confused. Sister? What— Oh. Riiiight. He'd forgotten about the disguise thing. Right.

Sighing, Ryan grabs Brendon's hand and squeezes it tightly. "Later," he says, smiling slightly before grasping the trunk of the tree he's leaning against and struggling to his feet to glare at Spencer fiercely. "Spencer, what's this I hear about you and Brendon back in high school?" Ryan demands as he strides across the park towards his brother, Susie's fierce voice giving Ryan's words inflection and tone they normally never have.

Brendon grins. He'll never run out of good things to say about Ryan.

\---

During one cuddle session, Georgie asks Ryan, "You're only planning to have the one kid, right?"

"Um," he says. "Well. This one wasn't exactly planned. Technically. And I don't think I can control this? When it happens, I mean." He snuggles a little closer and mumbles, "I _liked_ growing up with Spencer and Stacey and Susie. My baby should get to have siblings too."

"You're going to give me a complex," Georgie mutters. "One of these days I'm going to turn straight. Then your sister will be pissed."

"Well. Maybe next time Stacey will cooperate? She'd make a better me anyway," Ryan says.

"Ryan Smith." Georgie sighs, shaking her head and smiling slightly.

"...what?" Ryan asks, genuinely confused. "I mean, it's uncomfortable now, but I figure if my mom did it three times I can manage at least twice, right? I like babies," he adds. He really does. His cousin has a little baby and sometimes he gets to hold her and she's just all small and squishy and warm and smells really good, and just. Yeah. Ryan likes babies.

"No," Georgie says. "I mean, your sister gave up months of her time to pretend to be you while you're pregnant, and you're complaining because she's not _you_ enough."

"She wasn't really _doing_ anything," Ryan grumps. "She didn't even finish high school!" Never mind that she's started a correspondence course, or that Ryan didn't do much of anything right after leaving high school either. Aside from, y'know, _saving the world_

"She's doing things," Georgie says, "We weren't just sitting around in England twiddling our thumbs."

"It's not like you're doing nothing here," Ryan says softly, because Georgie isn't just babysitting him, she's helping with their random alien encounters too. "And she. She doesn't have any way to protect herself from magic and stuff. She's just a kid."

"She's older than you were when you started fighting aliens," Georgie replies. "And I protect her."

"I had the car, though. And Spencer." Because, and Ryan is sure this is a fact of life, Spencer can take care of _anything_. Spencer is amazing. "And Brent and Brendon. It's just you and her and she's not— She _talks_ about fighting vampires and things, but she just wants to dance, that's all she wants to do. It's not particularly defensive, dancing."

"She's your sister," Georgie points out. "And Spencer's. She can do a lot more than you give her credit for."

Ryan shakes his head. "Stacey could– Stacey's fierce. She's like a tiger—sleek, camouflaged danger. But Susie is too trusting, she just believes the best of people."

"She did run away with me..."

"Well that's just. Smiths. We want adventure, we want to see things for ourselves." Ryan smiles slightly. "You should meet Dad's cousin Sarah Jane sometime. She's amazing."

Georgie laughs. "I think I have met enough Smiths for one lifetime."

"She's been to the stars," Ryan says wistfully. He supposes he must've been off Earth at some point in time, since he's not a local and all, but he doesn't remember it. He'd like to go sometime, but Spencer worries too much and always tells him no. Spencer is a killjoy.

"You're only young yet," Georgie offers. "One day you're likely to get there, if you keep inventing."

"No, Spencer says I'm not allowed to. That he's not going to be responsible for releasing Brendon on the universe, and I can't go without Brendon." Brendon would kill Ryan if he tried to go without him. Plus, it's _Brendon_ —Ryan isn't sure he would want to see the stars if he didn't have Brendon to see them with him.

\---

Everything is loud and bright and chaotic and Ryan wants to be somewhere else, anywhere but here. But he's the guest of honor—kind of—so it isn't as if he can just skip out and skive off, even though no one is actually paying attention to him, tucked away in an armchair and curled up under an afghan that really makes him wonder about Pete's taste. Of course, the fact that Pete insisted on throwing a party—a fucking _baby shower_ —for a girl he barely even knows already has Ryan wondering.

Ryan glares at where Susie, dressed up in some of his nicest pants and doing horrible, unspeakable things to a peach and lilac scarf, is hanging all over Brendon, wearing Ryan's face. Under his breath, Ryan growls. Baby sister Susie may be, but if she tries anything with Brendon, anything at all, Ryan swears he'll screw her up so badly that she'll never dance another step for as long as she lives. Ryan's fingers tighten in the afghan, tugging the yarn out of shape as he watches Brendon smile at Susie and lean in to whisper in her ear. Susie is so dead, Ryan decides. So very, very—

Then Brendon glances up, smiles brilliantly at Ryan across the room, and. Oh. Biting his lip, Ryan tentatively smiles back. _Love you_ , comes the thought from Brendon, careful and caressing and Ryan's smile strengthens as his fingers gradually loosen, releasing the blanket.

_I know. Love you too_ , he thinks back. Brendon gives him an imperceptible nod before turning back to Siska and looking for all the world completely engrossed in what he's being told.

"Hey there, Smithy," croons a voice and Ryan groans internally because Gabe Saporta is the last person he wants to deal with right now. "You and Urie having a lover's spat?" Gabe waggles his eyebrows and Ryan wishes Susie had a temper like Spencer or Stacey or someone because then he could totally justify punching Gabe in the nose.

"Fuck off, Saporta. I'm crabby, hormonal, and not in the mood," Ryan snaps. The harsh words really don't have the same oomph in Susie's light voice as they do in Ryan's own, and he's more than a little disappointed. Hell, how does Susie get _mad_?

"Maybe you just haven't found the right man to put you in the mood." Again with the eyebrow waggling. Ryan doesn't think it's cute when Brendon does it, and he doesn't think it's cute on Gabe now. Fucking _god_ , Ryan doesn't care what Pete thinks, that's it, Saporta is going _down_ —

"Thank god I found you," an earnest voice is suddenly saying from somewhere behind Ryan, and an arm stretches into his line of sight to grasp Gabe's shoulder. "Cash is compromising Vicky-T's virtue in the kitchen." Ryan tilts his head back and sees that the kid attached to the arm is staring very intently at Gabe. As he watches him, Ryan nearly falls off the chair by the intense wave of _go away go away go away_ that hits him. Gabe gets this strange, dazed look on his face and he nods distractedly, pulling free of the kid's hand and wandering vaguely off in the direction of Pete's kitchen.

"Thank you," Ryan says quietly, because there's no doubt in his mind that the kid's responsible for getting rid of Gabe and not the news of Colligan and his advances on the ever-lovely Victoria. "You're... Marshall, right?" Ryan tries not to wince at the feeling of pure elation that rolls off of the kid before he manages to tamp it down. Geez, remember a guy's name and he freaks the fuck out. Ryan will never understand The Cab. "Ryan told me about you," Ryan adds, remembering that he's supposed to be Susie, who doesn't have to deal with these guys crashing her car all the time. Then he remembers that The Cab kids had a tendency to storm the diner Susie used to work at back in Vegas, demanding free pie from her by virtue of knowing her brothers. Oops.

"Dude," Marshall says, rolling his eyes and coming around so he's not standing behind Ryan anymore. "I know you're not Susie." Ryan's panic must show on his face because Marshall rushes on to say, "I walked in on you and Brendon the other day and I couldn't really—I mean, I'm slightly-psychic? Kind of? That's what Brendon says is going on, anyway." Oh. Interesting. Ryan makes a mental note to have Words with Brendon later on for not sharing this particular bit of information. "It's cool. I won't tell anyone—Brendon and Jon already threatened me about that, not that I'd tell even if they hadn't, um," Marshall says hurriedly, holding up his hands and flushing slightly.

Ryan thinks for a minute, then nods. "Is Colligan really compromising Victoria's virtue?"

"If he is, it's only because she's letting him." Marshall's words are harsh and more than slightly bitter in tone, and Ryan blinks. He remembers being there. Huh. Curious.

They talk for a bit, and Ryan starts to unwind, starts to get over the fact that here he is in a room full of people he knows and is friends with, full of people who are all (nearly all, he amends, remembering the brush of Brendon's mind earlier, acknowledging Marshall's presence now) ignoring him because they think he's someone he isn't. Susie better not be ruining his reputation—he left strict instructions with both her and Brendon that she was not, under any circumstances, to consume any sort of alcohol. They're discussing the difficulties of being psychic and in a band (it's not so bad for Ryan, who pretty much only picks up stuff if the other person is psychic too, or if he's in physical contact with them), when Cash bounds up and crashes into Marshall from behind.

"Is _this_ why you told me talk with Vicky-T in the kitchen? So that you could hog Susie all to yourself? I am shocked, Marshall. Shocked and appalled." Colligan drapes himself over Marshall and winks at Ryan over his friend's shoulder. "Hello, gorgeous. Are you still claiming it isn't twins? I think it's twins, there's no way all that can be just one kid—you're like a _house_."

Ryan growls, groping about for his sonic gadget, determined to make Colligan's life miserable. "You have five minutes to apologize or else I cause all metal on you to become highly magnetized," he warns, giving what he hopes is a reasonable approximation of Susie's sweet smile of deadly viciousness. Normally, Ryan doesn't mind Cash. Much. The kid has a bad case of hero worship, which Ryan finds both flattering and pathetic. Mostly pathetic, as Cash kind of really fails at building much of anything, and he seems determined to imitate Ryan's penchant for inventing random stuff all the time. Cash is kind of really adorably pathetic, and Ryan's even mostly forgiven him for his brief, four month long fling with Brendon four, five years ago. Mostly. Hormones make Ryan much less willing to put up with Cash's stupidity than usual however, and he glares up at him fiercely.

Colligan just grins. "Johnson was wondering whether or not he has to do alimony payments or whatever, because you two were never married, and I told him you can't demand child support unless you can actually prove he's the father and not Brendon, so—"

"God, just. Stop," Marshall says, trying to throw Cash off his back.

Cash, however, clearly has no intention of listening to Marshall. "Dude, Suemeister, where's your brother? I need to show him my fabulous new invention, the nose cup!" He pulls out a styrofoam cup with a bite out of the rim. "Look, it fits your nose so you can drink more easily. Is that not totally awesome? It's going to make me _millions_."

Is this guy for real? "...I am so embarrassed to know you," Ryan says. He's starting to think that prolonged exposure to Cash may cause permanent brain damage.

"Seriously, shut up now before she kills you with her brain," Marshall groans. Ryan thinks Marshall should stop being such a pussy and let Ryan at the idiot. He wouldn't kill him with his brain (that's more Brendon's forte), he'd just rough him up a little. With a pitchfork. Marshall's eyes go wide and Ryan knows he caught that last mental image. Ryan calmly meets Marshall's eyes, staying silent. "Come on," Marshall says after a couple of uncomfortable and silent minutes pass, "I think Pete said something about quesadillas."

"Quesadillas! Win!" Cash whoops, racing off and dragging Marshall with him. Ryan smirks. The Cab have nothing on him.

"You know, normally pregnant mothers don't take pride in scaring off small children," Patrick remarks as he settles down on the ottoman next to where Ryan's sitting. He proffers a mug of green tea, which Ryan gratefully accepts and grasps to his chest, sipping it happily. Mmm, _tea_. Patrick is totally Ryan's new favorite person.

"I'm not a pregnant mother," Ryan replies, but it's more an automatic response than a complaint. Patrick knows what's going on after all, and he's kind of been a life-saver for Ryan over the past few months with all the random shit he knows about male pregnancy. Ryan's starting to think that maybe Spencer's been onto something all these years with his crazy theories about how Patrick is the true mastermind behind Andy's alien awesome.

"Right, you can't be that until you have the kid, which looks to be any day now." Patrick raises an eyebrow at Ryan's bulge. Ryan flushes slightly and glances away.

"Not for another month at least," Ryan says. "I'm only eight months along, tops, and gestation is actually technically ten months, doctors just tell women nine so they don't freak out about babies coming a bit early. Brent said." They tried to get the Doctor to give them more details about Gallifreyan physiology, but the guy's apparently really tied up saving the universe at the moment, so they've mostly been playing all of this by ear. Personally, Ryan thinks saving the universe is a kind of crappy excuse, because come on—you'd think a time traveler of all people would be able to find the time to help out the only other surviving member of his species, _really_.

"Ten months for a human female," Patrick agrees, eyes hidden under the brim of his cap. "Which would be useful knowledge if you actually were one."

Catching and stalling on the "human" part of Patrick's statement, Ryan splutters and nearly drops his tea. "What are you talking about? I'm human, I'm totally human, I'm as human as they come—" and if that doesn't sound like a guilty admission to Ryan's ears, he doesn't know what does, _god_.

"You're not a woman, though," Patrick says patiently, pushing up his hat to look at Ryan. "The length of gestation for men is different sometimes. Also," Patrick glances nervously around the room, "it really wasn't a good idea for you to come to this when you're so close to term. Something's likely to set you off at any minute, and there are a lot of people here..."

Ryan relaxes, rolls his eyes, and shrugs. "It's not like I can go into premature labor. I don't exactly have the equipment for that kind of thing." After many discussions with Brent, Brendon, Spencer, and his parents, Ryan decided months ago that having a cesarean is the only way this is ever going to actually work.

Patrick coughs. "Actually, about that... Well, you're not exactly supposed to be equipped to have a kid in the first place, right? If you can _get_ pregnant and carry a baby to term, how do you know you can't actually give birth to one?"

Technically, though Patrick doesn't know it, Ryan's totally supposed to be capable of conceiving and carrying a child, it's part of his basic biology. Patrick, of course, just thinks he's a regular human guy who's suffering from the really odd side effects of being a rock star. Though, now that Ryan thinks about it, it doesn't make much sense for a male of his species to be able to naturally conceive through parthenogenesis but not be able to give birth via natural means. Did they ever think to ask the Doctor about actual labor the few times they got hold of him, or were they too concerned with the pregnancy itself to ask? Ryan has a sinking feeling it was the latter, and his stomach twists in a way that has nothing to do with hunger or the baby rearranging itself.

"Oh. Oh, um." Ryan blanches. One of the first things his mother did after he told her he was pregnant was to start regaling him with the story of Spencer's birth, which, thanks, Ryan really never needed to know. "But. That. How can I have the _parts?_ I can't go into labor—it's supposed to hurt like a bitch and go on and on for ages and—"

"Hey. Calm down, you don't want to get agitated. You're far enough along that you might just end up—"

"Oh." Ryan feels something twist inside again, and yeah, that's definitely not his stomach this time. Something else twists, then something tightens, and. And Ryan doesn't think that's a exactly a _good_ thing. "Patrick...?" he says shakily, starting to sit up straighter in the chair. "I think. I think the baby might be coming?"

"Shit." Patrick's head snaps around and he scans the room, but whatever he's looking for he apparently doesn't find it, because he's turning back to Ryan. "Do you feel a kind of... Twisting? And clenching? And maybe a sort, well, tingle, I guess," he asks seriously.

Tingle? Ryan starts to relax, because there's no tingle, so clearly it's some kind of false— oh, yeah. That's a tingle. "Yes?" Thank god for Patrick, Ryan thinks desperately, trying not to panic. Patrick knows all kinds of amazing shit—Pete may actually be onto something with his constant fangirling of the guy.

Grabbing Ryan's shoulders, Patrick stares at him intently. "Hey, focus on me, okay? Look. There's a very good chance this could go a lot faster than hu– than female labor, okay? I need you to concentrate enough to tell Brendon what's going on. He's the strongest psychic here, and he's probably your best bet for getting the pertinent people informed on what's happening without the entire party finding out. Have him get Brent to use his thing to get everyone to leave or something."

"I. Brendon," Ryan says, latching onto Brendon's name and keeping his attention fixed on that. Where's Brendon? Brendon _needs_ to be here for this, he promised. He said he'd be there when the baby came _no matter what_. Brendon— Brendon— _Brendon_ —

And then there he is in Ryan's mind and oh, perfect, so much better now. The only thing better than this would be having Brendon here, right next to him in the chair, just Ryan, Brendon, and the baby. Baby. Brendon picks up on the problem right away, concern lacing his thoughts as he soothes Ryan's panicked mental chatter. Once Ryan's calm enough to think clearly again, he quickly reassures Brendon that he's fine, Patrick's taking care of things (Pete) for the moment, but if Brendon could see about crowd control, or at least tell Spencer and the others...?

"Brendon's coming," Ryan tells Patrick at the same time that Patrick takes his mug out of his hand and grabs Ryan's arm, tugging him to his feet.

"Come on, we have to get you to another room, away from all these people before someone sees something you'd rather they didn't," Patrick says anxiously as he helps Ryan stand.

"I. This is really happening?" This can't be happening, Ryan isn't anywhere near being ready for this yet.

"Once that kid has decided that he or she is coming out, nothing is going to stop them, trust me," Patrick reassures Ryan as he guides Ryan away from all concerned well-wishers who are now practically falling over themselves to acknowledge his (Susie's) presence, even though they were more than happy to mostly ignore Ryan earlier. Ryan doesn't see any of them, though, because Brendon is pushing his way through the crowd with Susie and taking Ryan's hand in his, and. That's _right_ , that's how it should be.

"Hi," Ryan whispers, mustering a smile for Brendon.

"Hey, you. How are you holding up? Nervous?"

"Terrified. But it's okay—I've got you." Brendon gives Ryan a shaky smile and squeezes his hand. They can totally do this.

\---

"May I present you with Spencer James Smith the sixth?"

Hearing Spencer's voice drift through the door, Ryan glances up to see Spencer step into the room, a second familiar face poking around the doorframe right behind him. "Don't listen to Spencer," Ryan advises. "He's full of himself and insane if he thinks I'm naming my son after him."

Spencer frowns. "You were all ready to name the baby after Sarah Jane if it was a girl. I don't see what the problem is."

"Sarah Jane? I approve—the world can always use more Sarah Janes," the Doctor says, coming the rest of the way into the room. Ryan's currently holed up in a guest room at Pete's; Patrick said he shouldn't move around a whole bunch right after having the baby, so Ryan's been stuck here for a little over three days, and he's starting to to feel the itch to _move_. If nothing else, it'd be really nice to not have to change himself into Susie whenever it sounds like Pete might be approaching. The Doctor crosses the room to stand next to the bed, grinning down and twiddling his fingers at the baby in Ryan's arms. "Hallo, baby. How does it feel, being the first of a new generation?"

"Mostly tiring, I think," Ryan says with a snort. "He seems to do a lot of sleeping. Also, crying. But my mom said that she's pretty sure that's perfectly normal no matter what species a baby is."

"Sounds about right. Though, looks like he's not the only one all tuckered out," the Doctor says, nodding over to where Brendon's curled up and conked out in the armchair standing next to the bed. Ryan still can't figure out how Brendon's managed to wear himself out so much— _Ryan's_ the one who's anemic, after all. "What's the little guy's proper name, then?" the Doctor asks, grinning.

"Shakespeare Algernon Smith the first," Ryan says proudly, though he does flush a little. "But we've been calling him Shax, mostly. Brendon insisted on the 'first' so that he wouldn't get a complex about not having a number like Spencer."

"I met Shakespeare once—brilliant man, really knew how to work a sonnet," the Doctor says, smiling delightedly when Shax yawns and sleepily opens his eyes. "A good, strong name for a healthy little boy."

"It sounds like something that a cruel, inconsiderate whacko-hippie would name his kid," Spencer protests sulkily.

"Spence. His parents are rocks stars. Psychic rock stars—what do you expect?" Jon points out as he hugs Spencer from behind and rests his chin on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer sighs and leans back against him.

"When you have a baby, you can name him whatever you like," Ryan says happily as he passes Shax up to Doctor to hold. "Shax is my baby, I get to name him."

Shax gurgles softly as the Doctor takes him, cuddling him to his chest. "Sorry I missed this one's birth," he says, giving Ryan a slightly chagrined look. "Obviously you lot managed on your own, but I know the process isn't quite the same as a human labor. I meant to come sooner, but, well. You know how it is."

Ryan nods, because he does know how it is—he and Spencer gave up promising to be back in town for their sisters' birthdays by their second year of traveling. If they manage to make back to Vegas in time for Christmas, they consider it a good year, these days. Honestly, Ryan has no idea how Jon manages to keep his family appeased, though the Walkers seem to tolerate the guys well enough whenever they pass through the area. "Well, we had Patrick to help us," Ryan admits to the Doctor. "We probably would've freaked out a whole lot more if we hadn't had him around." In truth, this entire pregnancy debacle has gone a lot easier overall just because of Patrick's useful and timely advice. Brendon pretty much thinks Patrick's magic now, and Ryan's really starting to think the same.

"Patrick? Who's Patrick?" the Doctor asks distractedly, offering Shax a finger to play with.

As if called, Patrick pushes the door open and comes into the room, a tray of food in his hands. "I know you keep insisting you feel fine, but you're going to be low on potassium and iron for at least another month, to say nothing of..." Finally noticing the Doctor, Patrick's eyes widen and he trails off. "Uh. I can come back later, if you like," he says, already backing up towards the door.

"You don't have to go," Ryan insists. "Doctor, this is Patrick Stump—he's pretty much the only reason we weren't running around in an absolute panic a few days ago."

"You and I need to have a talk, I think, Mr. Stump," the Doctor says slowly, eyes locked with Patrick's, voice tight and queer.

Patrick sighs and sets down the tray he's carrying. "Yeah," he says, sounding oddly resigned, "I was kind of afraid of that."


End file.
